Shattered Hearts
by Emerald
Summary: Realizing that Ethan will never leave Gwen, Theresa marries Fox against Ethan's protests. Can she handle hurting Fox-the man that's done nothing but love her-with her infidelity, or will she have to learn to endure life without Ethan?
1. Prologue

**_Prologue _**

The sunlight cracking through the window barely caught her eye but the stark light made her eye twitch and clamp shut tightly, blocking out the sun. She snuggled closer to the man next to her, his body warm and smooth. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent, finding comfort in both him and the dream that had been crossing her mind that night.

Her hand spread over the expanse of his chest, a coy smile on her lips where her dream was becoming more and more real. Her lips moved like butter as she uttered the man of her dreams' name.

"Ethan…," she sighed. The name melted from her lips with such simplicity.

The man held her in his arms as she spoke, his hand lightly moved down her arm, slowly feeling her skin. He had heard what she said and it didn't shock him in the least. A strange look crossed his face and he kissed the top of her head, pulling in the fragrance of her hair, reveling in how much she amazed him.

He had been awake for a while now just watching her sleep peacefully next to him, feeling her body against his, soft and alive-- it set his heart afire. She finally broke free from her dream with a small jolt that forced her wandering soul back into place. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and took a minute to think of where she was, who she was, and who she was with. It all finally came to her and she looked up at the man whose chest she was lying on.

"Good morning," he said in a whisper, looking at her in the way he always had.

"Good morning," she replied with a small smile.

She rolled away from his side to her own part of the bed, belly down, hiding her nude body from his stare. Her hair spilled down to the pillow when she hunched herself up on her elbows to look at him, grazing it with its dark color and piercing shine. The way she looked in the morning never failed to stun him. No makeup and no cosmetic aide whatsoever and yet she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. They held the stare for a long time and he finally went forward and kissed her lips softly.

At first she was surprised when he did it and didn't move. Her open eyes stared at his closed ones in front of her, still feeling his lips on her immobile mouth. It took her a while to respond and she finally closed her eyes briefly and pushed her lips forward, slightly returning the peck. It was short, mere seconds perhaps and still it filled her heart with a feeling she hated and it filled his with a feeling he had grown all too accustomed to. He pulled back, softly feeling the skin of her cheek with the back of his hand.

They said nothing and yet he got some kind of message from her. He pulled the sheet from across his body and lifted himself from the bed, pulling on a pair of boxers from the floor before he stood up. He walked around the bed, stepping closer to her, yawning and pulling his body into a stretch. Her eyes followed him as he walked and then he stopped and turned back to her.

"I'm gonna take a shower, okay? Wanna join me?" It was a simple question and it was as if he already knew the answer. It was always the same.

The look on her face was subtle and silent. She pushed a strand of hair from the front of her face with her left hand exposing the large white stone that sat in a bed of platinum shine. When he saw it, something ached inside of him and he cursed everything that he knew.

Even her.

"Um…," she stuttered, "I don't think so." Her words made a silent lump pass his throat but he barely noticed his familiar response to her refusal. "I worked late last night and I'm just gonna sleep in before I go to work," she offered with an apologetic smile.

He was motionless for an instant and then finally nodded before heading to the bathroom. As she watched him walk away and close the door behind him, a feeling of sorrow collapsed over her like a ton of lead, sinking her down to the bed with a cushiony landing. She could hear the water running a moment later and silently pleaded for the strength she knew she didn't have.

A powerful fatigue suddenly overtook her and she closed her eyes to the image that had haunted her for the past two years and would always be with her, reminding her of her foolishness and of what she left behind. As sleep began to take hold once again, she uttered the word again, "Ethan…"

* * *

_The day had been planned for months and it had finally arrived. Smiles, jitters, and excitement were everywhere. Theresa stood in the rectory preparing herself in front of a mirror, her eyes wide with disbelief that this was actually happening. Her mother and best friend were worrying about every detail of the white dress and only added to her nervousness. People were bustling around her, almost making her head spin with their pace. _

_A messenger had just walked in with yet another bouquet of white roses to add to the collection of piling bouquets on the counter. The room was fragrant of their smell and only reminded her of the impact this day would have upon her life. Theresa gazed down at the ring on her hand and stared at it for a moment. It was an exquisite stone and it sparkled in the light. When she had first received it, she wasn't sure that she wanted to put it on. So much had happened in her life and then there was a man on his knee in front of her. And now, the wait was over. She would walk down the aisle and become his wife today._

_Her mother was behind her, pinning the veil to her head and suddenly the ensemble was complete. Theresa smoothed her hands down her bodice and felt the soft fabric against her palms, the light embroidery rubbing at her touch. Her fingers went up to the base of her throat and stroked the single diamond stone that hung from a silver chain, just enough to accentuate the white of the dress across the color of her skin._

_She turned from the mirror and stared at her teary-eyed mother. Pilar had her hand over her mouth and she took in every detail of her daughter before her._

_"You are so beautiful, mija," Pilar managed past the lump gathering in her throat. And she was. The dress was a slender-fitting dress that A-lined out to the floor from just below the waist with a swaying fabric that didn't balloon out like a prom dress but granted her body with a perfect fit. There were no straps on her shoulders and the back swept up into a small bow close to her right hip, falling into a cascading waterfall of silk that led down to her train five and a half feet behind her. She was a true vision._

_Theresa blushed at her mother's comment and smiled in gratitude. Pilar took Theresa's hands in her own and looked deep into her daughter's eyes, searching for something. "Are you ready?"_

_Theresa swallowed gently and tightened her hold on her mother's hands slightly. A quick breath escaped her chest and she nodded with a swift movement of her head. "Yes," she answered._

_"Are you sure?" Pilar pressed._

_Theresa didn't answer and turned her attention to Whitney at the opposite side of the room. She wore a lavender dress that fit her body and looked stunning against her skin tone. "Um.. Whit, do you have my bouquet?"_

_Whitney looked to her best friend with her veil and smiled. "You're all set," she said reassuringly. Whitney walked to the bride and touched the veil hanging above her head. "It's-- it's your big day…," she said softly. "It's a big deal, you know. Getting married. It's forever, Theresa." She took Theresa's left hand and stared at the big diamond blinking at her. "You're my best friend and I know you better than anyone else." Theresa nodded silently. "I just want to make sure that you're sure about this. Are you really ready to do this?"_

_Theresa's other hand left her side and took the hand that was grasping her other one. "I have to do this, Whit. It's the right thing to do."_

_Whitney's gaze was taken down to the floor and she silently sent up a prayer for some kind of salvation for her friend. Theresa was stubborn and thick-headed. She knew that. She always knew that. Theresa had set her mind to this and there was no backing her down. "Okay," she replied in a whisper. Theresa nodded back at her and Whitney was amazed at how strong her best friend really was… But it was then that she realized how weak she was being. "Then…," Whitney began. "Let's go get you married."_

_Theresa gently grazed the bottom of her eye, careful not to disturb the makeup that she so carefully applied and let out a small laugh. "Okay, let's do it."_

_Whitney walked back to the other side of the room and gathered both her and Theresa's bouquet and Pilar primped the bottom of Theresa's dress once more. Pilar stroked her daughter's cheek and smiled at her, beaming with pride and trying to hide her fear. Whitney handed Theresa her large bouquet of white roses and the vision before her was amazing. Theresa was a beautiful bride and all of the women in the room were trying in vain to hide their tears._

_"Ready to go, Theresa?" Whitney asked, walking to the door that would lead to the back of the church._

_"Yeah… yeah. Um… just give me a minute, okay?"_

_Pilar and Whitney took their flowers and walked out of the room, leaving Theresa alone to gather herself. The large bouquet in Theresa's hands wasn't exactly light and as she stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes falling up and down her body, taking in every detail she saw. She softly placed the flowers on the counter beside her and closed her eyes to breathe._

In and out… In and out…

_She realized that her heart was pounding and she could hear the blood pulsing hard throughout her body with the silence that surrounded her. I can do this.. she told herself. Okay, Theresa. Keep it together. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted when she felt two hands come behind her and hide her eyes. The touch was familiar and soft and she pulled her hands on top of them, rubbing them softly. _

_"Hey, what are you doing here? You know you're not supposed to see the bride before the cere--" she stopped speaking when she turned to see the man before her. Her words caught in her throat and she couldn't speak. Her pounding heart skipped a beat when she saw him and silently begged for it all to be a dream._

_"You look beautiful," the man told her sincerely._

_She took in a quick breath. "Ethan… What are you doing here?" she demanded to know. "I thought I told you not to come."_

_"You did. But I couldn't let you make the biggest mistake of your life, Theresa."_

_She pushed away from him, pacing to the other side of the room. "No. Don't start, Ethan. Not again." Her voice was shaky and she was doing her best to avoid his stare._

_"Theresa, please. Just think about what you're doing."_

_"Ethan, I know what I'm doing. I'm getting married and that's that."_

_He pushed the lump from his throat and tried not to let the emotion rising within him to be heard. "You don't love him."_

_She didn't speak and spun to face him quickly. "Yes, Ethan.. Yes, I do." Something in her eyes was always readable to him and he would forever keep it with him._

_He walked towards her slowly, making sure that she wouldn't pull back. She didn't. As he approached, she felt the blood rushing faster. She stood firm, her shoulders strong, telling him that she wasn't going to back down. His hand slowly inched towards her face and it finally rested on her cheek and traced to her jaw line. Her eyes closed, trying to memorize the feeling of his touch and her breathing quickened. "More than you love me?" he asked, his eyes tearing into her soul._

_She looked up at him and prayed that he wouldn't see through her. She said nothing and pulled away from him, using every amount of strength she had. "Ethan, don't. Just don't."_

_His heart was breaking and she knew it. "Theresa, please…," he begged. "You know this is wrong. Don't-- don't marry Fox."_

_Theresa's back was to him and he could see the expansion of her ribs with each forceful breath she was taking in. He could tell how much he affected her when he touched her and he knew what was still in her heart. "Stop. Just stop, Ethan! Okay? Fox.. he's a good man, Ethan. He cares for me and he's always there when I need him."_

_Ethan didn't say anything for a moment and let what she had just said register. "He cares for you…?"_

_Her eyes tightened in his insinuation. "He loves me." Her tone was harsh when she said it, almost angry at him for what he had suggested with a simple statement. "When I need someone, he's the first one to stand up for me. He believes in me. Fox loves me, Ethan and he would never hurt me."_

_"But--" he tried._

_"No! No buts, Ethan. What? Did you expect me to wait around for you when you're still married to Gwen? I'm tired, Ethan. I'm sick of waiting and it's not fair to me," she clutched her chest as she spoke and pointed her hand at him, "and it's not fair to you. I can't… I just can't do this anymore." Her voice was shaking and she was taking in short breaths to keep her composure at bay. Guilt washed over him when he saw what he had done to her._

_"I'm sorry, Theresa…" She shook her head, brushing off his apology in pain. "I'm divorcing Gwen, Theresa. I can't do this anymore either." His words were soft and she almost believed them._

_She let out a huffy laugh in disbelief and stared at him. "Ethan, how many times have you said that to me? How long have I been waiting for you to finally see that you belong with me? I just can't wait anymore."_

_"Theresa, I really am divorcing her. I fi--"_

_"No, Ethan. I'm tired of the excuses. I'm tired of waiting. I can't do it, Ethan. You may say that you're leaving Gwen but all you've proven is that you want to have your cake and eat it too." She stopped and found a painful stare looking at her. She could see the heartache behind his eyes and it was killing her. "Fox loves me, Ethan. We care for each other and he asked me to marry him. He'll take care of me. That's all I need, Ethan."_

_Ethan's hands moved to his hips, spreading the suit jacket over his arms. He looked to the side, his gaze away from Theresa as an attempt to hide the welling tears. He swallowed hard and nodded, brushing his nose when he looked back to her. "Is that all you need, Theresa? You don't love him." _

_Theresa left her place from in front of him. She walked away, her back to him and she was begging every higher power for help. Her soul was screaming inside of her and she couldn't take the anguish. All she wanted to do was collapse to the ground and cry until she had no more energy to cry; until her body was utterly as dried up as she felt inside. Her hands were on her hips as if it helped in her thinking process--nothing would help her now._

_"Get out, Ethan." Her tone was bland and she couldn't even face him when she said it._

_He stood defeated opposite her and the breath seemed to leave his body when she refused to hear him out. It was over… He knew how much she was hurting because he felt it too and he was dying inside. He watched the woman he loved stare him in the eye and tell him she loved someone else when he knew she was lying. Her strength never ceased to amaze him and for once he wished she wouldn't be so stubborn and just listen to what her heart was trying to tell her._

_Ethan had heard what Theresa told him and yet he couldn't bring himself to leave her just yet. He stared at her and waited for her to turn around and tell him that he was right. He wanted her to jump into his arms and let him know that she would never leave him again._

_She didn't._

_He was sure he shouldn't but he didn't care. He walked to her still facing her back and turned her around to meet him. What he did next wasn't granted permission for nor was it shameful. His hand slid across her cheek and brought her face to his, crashing her lips with his own. At first she tried to fight him and she tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her go and soon he felt her melt against him. Her kiss was burning against his lips and she let him into her mouth with a surprising passion. He pulled her body to his and his tongue begged her to listen to her heart, and for a brief instant she heard a whisper from within herself._

_Their breathing ragged, he pulled back and looked at her deeply, his hand still on her face caressing her cheek tenderly. A single tear had spilled through her eyelashes and was about to fall when he caught it with his thumb and wiped it from her eye. His touch was electric and she felt the familiar surge go through her body._

_Ethan pressed his forehead to hers and silently told her everything in his heart. Tears were in her eyes and she could feel the ache that he was trying to control within his own soul. Him just being near her made her want to abandon her thoughts and it was torture being so close to him._

_"I love you," he whispered softly. The silence around them seem to hang but those words were a resonating sound and it only brought more water to her eyes. She knew he meant it and she wished with every cell in her body that she could say it back, but she couldn't._

_Not now._

_Ethan waited for Theresa to say something but she didn't and it killed him. She was going to go through with it. His thumb traced her lips and he fought back every urge to kiss her again and left her side quickly. Tears fell from his eyes as he walked out of the rectory and out of the life that belonged to Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald. After the ceremony she would no longer be that girl; she would no longer be his._

_When Ethan pulled back and left the room, Theresa clutched her solar plexus and took in deep breaths to try to calm herself. Her hand covered her mouth and she tried to force out the feeling of what Ethan's lips felt like against her own but her blood was still hot from the electricity that he sent through her. Finally not being able to contain it anymore, Theresa cried._

_

* * *

How she made it to the back of the church still confused her. She held the large bouquet in her shaky hands and suddenly, any amount of fight or resolve that she had in her early today had vanished with Ethan when he left her in the rectory all alone. She had promised herself that she wouldn't let him get to her but it had gone beyond her control and she regretted ever having seen him at all. _

_Now she stood at the back of the church and as soon as the band director saw her, a wedding march started and Whitney began her parade down the aisle. Luis walked Theresa down the aisle and when she got the front by Fox, he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Follow your heart, Theresa." Fox's smile was bright when he took her hand and led her up to the alter next to him. Luis' words echoed inside her mind and she couldn't let go of them for the entire ceremony._

_The time had come for the rings and she was standing side facing the audience. As the priest spoke, her gaze wandered to the corner where she caught Ethan staring at her from one of the pews. He was silent and alone, his eyes heavy and pleading with her. She saw a lump pass his throat and she felt the overwhelming yearning to run to his side and fall into his comforting arms. Tears threatened in her eyes again and she tried to ignore the feeling when she heard the words from across from her._

_"I do…" Fox's words jolted her back to him and soon the same question was posed to her. Theresa looked into Fox's eyes that were full of joy and light and felt guilt wash over her completely._

_Ethan watched as Fox pledged himself to Theresa and it was finally the moment of truth. It was Theresa's turn to say the two words. It was the longest minute of his life and his heart stopped beating, his breathing stopped and all he could do was think of her. He saw her eyes before him, her smile lighting up his heart, he felt her touch against him, he felt her kiss on his lips, and he heard her say she loved him. As painful as it all was, it almost brought a smile to his face._

_Finally ending the suspense in the moment, Theresa spoke and Ethan closed his eyes and let the tears fall._

_"I do," he heard her say._

_He silently freed himself of her with a hesitant goodbye that pulsed from his heart to hers. He knew she got it too because as soon as she had spoken, she turned to look at him and the look in her eyes would be an image burned into his memory forever. That's when she sent her own message to him and it shattered his heart…_


	2. The Window

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Chapter 1: **The Window**

Theresa sat in her comfortable chair and felt the soft, plush-filled leather against her back. She was sunk low in the seat, her chin touching the base of her throat with the palms of her hands flat on the glazed mahogany in front of her. As she stared blankly at the grain of the fine wood, her mind felt empty. No thoughts consumed her but the way the black lines streaked the brown of her desk. There she sat motionless for a time, minutes, ten minutes, and when her phone rang after seventeen of the long sixty-second intervals, she sat up and turned her gaze to the black plastic box of communications.

"Theresa Crane," she answered as she picked up the receiver.

"_Don't you sound happy_," the light female voice on the other line returned.

"Hey, Whit. What's up?" A tired and bored Theresa let out a deep sigh and rubbed her eye with her hand wearily.

"I'm starving so I'm going out to eat. Wanna come? My treat…," Whitney asked hopefully.

"Um, sorry, Whit," Theresa apologized. "I just had lunch with one of my clients."

Whitney didn't speak for a moment letting out a sound of disappointment at her friend's answer. _"Dessert then? C'mon, we can get ice cream. Vanilla, Strawberry, Rocky Road, whatever you want…"_ A sound of desperation in her voice.

Theresa stifled a short yawn with the back of her palm and stretched the side of her face with her hand. "I--I don't think I can."

"What do you mean you can't? Theresa, you're the boss of the place. Can't you step out for a few minutes?"

Theresa had known Whitney long enough to recognize her tone; it was as if Whitney was begging and the sound seemed broken and harassing at the same time. "I just have a lot of stuff to do," she said looking around at a pile of papers that she hadn't touched in hours. "Two new clients coming in soon and… I can't right now. Sorry."

Whitney sounded defeated when she told Theresa that she understood. She knew Theresa was busy-- she usually was-- and besides, it was almost time. Even though Theresa did wish to get out of her office after staring at the same four walls all day, she wasn't in the mood and she was waiting for something before she left for the day.

"Okay, honey," Theresa started again, "I'm gonna be heading home in a little bit. I'll call you tomorrow and maybe we can go out for pizza or something. Sound good?"

Whitney almost hesitated and said nothing for a second. _"Yeah-- yeah, that's fine. Okay, I'll talk to you later. Don't work too hard and get some rest, okay?"_

Theresa let out a small laugh at the edge of the receiver. "Always. Bye." Whitney repeated the latter and Theresa dropped the phone into its black bin.

It seemed like Theresa's world crawled at an extremely slow pace around her. Seconds seemed like hours and she stared out at her lavish office once again. Her eyes moved over everything, taking in all details. The same expensive books and decorations glared back at her and her mind began to wander again. Deep thoughts filled her head and the lingering questions gnawed at her brain. She sat silently, slowly cursing and accusing herself of what haunted her and of what she had done to her life.

Her eyes stared out at nothing in particular and let the thoughts race through her mind. She couldn't control it anymore and had learned long ago to let the memories and questions, however painful, pass without trying to fight them. It was hard to deal with her own demons and Theresa pushed on the edge of the desk and let her chair roll backwards. Her hands pressed down on the arms of the chair as she lifted herself onto her feet. Moving aside, Theresa walked around the chair and let it roll back into its position in the cubby of the desk with a gentle push. She felt heavy as she stood. Almost her entire afternoon had been spent doing nothing and yet she felt exhausted.

Back behind the desk that Theresa sat at every working day of the week, there was a large clear barrier blocking her from the world outside. It was literally a wall of glass that expanded from floor to ceiling and extended fifteen feet horizontally. The big stretch of glass led her eye across the busy downtown area of Harmony. The sky was already being painted with the fierce oranges and yellows of a late summer sun. The few skyscrapers that stood in Harmony cased the streets with a dark glow, hiding the brightness of the setting sun.

As she looked through the window, Theresa caught sight of a waving flag billowing in the wind and some children running after a ball a few blocks down. It all seemed so small from where she stood, almost as if she were some supreme being looking down on her creation from up above. Everything was tiny, almost toy-like and it made her realize how inferior they all were. Specs moved about and cars that were much bigger than a person looked as though they were made for dolls.

Staring out, it made her feel powerful. Just to be residing in this office made her feel powerful. Theresa had never dreamed of working in this position and she loved it. There were times when she questioned how exactly she had risen to this position or if she even deserved it after what she had caused others. With a simple word or snap of her fingers, she could get anything she wanted. Her last name commanded respect and sometimes she tired of the fear behind people's eyes when they learned her surname.

Fatigue that seemed normal to her now, began to overtake her body. She couldn't remember the last time that she truly felt energized. It seemed as if for the past year and a half the life had been sucked out of her by an invisible leech. Her mind was always somber and she felt a heaviness that would consume her and follow her everywhere. She couldn't escape her feelings of guilt or torment and she hadn't been the same person since that day so very long ago…

With a graceful move, Theresa placed her hands with linked fingers atop her head, stretching her shoulder blades. She could feel the pressure on the top of her skull as she forced all weight from her arms to suddenly be held by her neck. Theresa closed her eyes and envisioned the last rays of sunlight spilling into her and warming her soul. Her breathing calmed her and she again allowed her mind to drift to distant places. A desperate relief washed over her and she felt at ease.

Ignoring the pressing feeling of the pile of work sitting on the corner of her desk, Theresa pulled her arms down to her side and turned from the window. The entire office was mahogany. Shelves and tables, the floor and the doors. On the far right side of her workspace, there was a fireplace that she had never used. The marble trimming was exquisite and it gave the room a much needed homey feel. Theresa stared at the English style clock above the mantel, the texture matching everything else in the room. Its white face was printed with ancient black numbers and the hands were almost vine-like. With a slow click, the minute hand moved upwards and she took notice that one of the hands was pointed at the Roman numeral five and the other pointed at the space between seven and eight.

5:37, she thought.

Her heart suddenly lifted and sunk at the same time. She turned her gaze back to the window and stared out, loving the sun before her. As Theresa looked down from her fourteen-story office space, she saw it. The very item that she would watch for every day at 5:35. She never forgot to check and she hated herself for looking everyday.

There, several hundred feet below her, parked on the black gravel of the parking lot, sat a black Lexus that she could recognize anywhere. For the past two years she looked forward to seeing the car. It wasn't because she loved the style or the leather interior, but rather it was the driver that caught her attention.

* * *

Everyday at 5:30 in the afternoon, Ethan left his practice to go home. It was always a relief to leave and know that he could go and not be bothered by work-related issues. With his briefcase in one hand and his keys in the other, he stepped out of the building that held his law firm and nodded at one of the concierges at the door. It was nice to step into the outside air after being cooped up inside for the entire day. His lungs drew in the breaths he took and it was as if his body responded to being away from his work area with relief. He was suddenly filled with a sense of calm and he knew that he would have several hours until he would have to come back the next morning. 

It wasn't that he disliked his job. He actually liked it. He always had a flair for working in the legal arena and he liked to see justice given with his helping hand. He was the owner and operator of his own law firm--one of his many aspirations since childhood. It was just that life wasn't what it used to be. He enjoyed his job and the people he worked with but it seemed like something was missing. It hadn't been the same since that day so long ago…

His fingers played with the keys around the steel circle in his hand as he walked to his car. The parking garage was dark and it had a horror movie feeling, as if anyone could pop out behind any one of the cars around him. Ethan kept his gaze fixed upon his car and when he reached it, he opened the door to the backseat and placed his briefcase down. It was after working hours and he loosened the silk around his neck and threw his tie down next to his bag. It felt good to relax his neck and he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and somehow breathing no longer felt as tried. With a quick neck roll, Ethan pushed the door closed and let himself into the front seat.

Pulling out of the garage, Ethan felt thankful for a peaceful ending to another day. No threats to sue him had come in a while and other law firms were beginning to take their distance when they saw his name on something. After he set driving the usual route he drove, it was five minutes before he'd reach his destination. Every single day he did this. He passed the same stop signs, the same red lights, and coffee shops and it soon blurred into the habitual stage of not having to matter. It had become such a routine, Ethan rarely realized he did it anymore.

He had a set place in his mind and he made sure he got there. Ethan pulled onto the street he did everyday at this time and spotted his usual position. It was the third one on the left side of the door and he geared into park. His right hand turned the key and the ignition turned off. He stared at his dashboard for a moment, not really knowing why he didn't want to immediately give in and look. The car stood still and he removed his heavy foot from the brake, his attention captured.

There she was.

He came to see her everyday and his heart grew with ache every time he saw her. Ethan could see her staring down at him and despite their distance and barriers, they locked eyes. The look in her eyes burned into his soul, just as it always had. He wanted to touch her, he wanted to hold her and it seemed unfair that the closest he would ever be able to get was this: Stare at her from afar.

* * *

Theresa pressed a palm to the glass in front of her, unconsciously reaching out to him. Her hand was white and flat against the window and her gesture seemed to hurt him even more somehow. Everyday, without fail, he did this. Ethan knew that she'd see him and he knew that she waited to see him everyday. Ever since Ethan had first heard that Theresa got the job, he would drive past her building in hopes of catching a glimpse of her through the window. Days and weeks passed and only a few times did he see the side of her face or her head above the chair she constantly sat in. It was the closest he could get to her and somehow it seemed to suffice. 

Theresa hadn't noticed that she was watched everyday at 5:35. She'd pass the window only when she needed to or if she was bored and needed something to distract her. That's how she saw him. One of her clients had gotten her really angry one day and she went to the window to look. She stared out at the quiet, yet busy, city of small town Harmony. She had been taught to breathe deeply when feeling stressed and she really needed oxygen at the moment. Theresa had pressed her forehead to the glass, her eyes closed, and she tried to push the annoying woman that had just screamed at her out of her mind.

When she opened her eyes, she didn't notice much difference than what she usually saw. She stared down at cars parked in the lot outside the building and tried to imagine she could see her reflection on the hoods of the cleaner ones. But then… there was something familiar about one of the cars. The black one. Every time she saw a black Lexus, Theresa was always reminded of Ethan. He drove one and she always felt it defined him. It wasn't an extremely flashy car that would draw attention but it was a nice car that seemed elegant and classy and, just like him, perfect. Theresa had cursed herself for allowing her mind to drift back to Ethan again and as she stared down at the car, she realized there was a person in it. A person that was looking right at her. It was a shocking discovery when she saw his eyes looking up at her. _How could she ever mistake those eyes?_

It was Ethan.

That was the day that started it all. Ever since then, everyday, Theresa waited anxiously for 5:35 to roll around so that she could see him again. It was a betrayal in a sense, she knew, but it was something she couldn't deny herself, nor could he. It was an unfaithful stare that both needed to hold.

They never said anything and had never made any change in their daily routine. The stare, a stare only two people who felt as they did would understand. Minutes went by and it always seemed to pass as an eternity before he could summon the courage to rip his gaze from hers. They said nothing and yet they could hear everything the other wanted to say. Finally, Ethan pulled himself back to reality and noted the clock on his dashboard told him that it was 5:49. Time to leave.

Theresa could tell he was leaving when she saw his head turn to something inside the car. He took one last look at her and pulled away, ripping open the scar of so many wounds. Theresa swallowed hard and removed her hand from the glass that felt cold to the touch. Her hand, the one that wore her wedding ring, was an endless guilt trip that she carried with her each day. Every time she thought of Ethan, her ring decided to remind her that she was married to another man.

It could never be.


	3. Questions and Answers

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Chapter 2: Questions and Answers

The day was over and it had ended the same as any other day: empty and growing more and more dull with every passing moment. Everything had gone as it usually had, her daily routine had not gone without occurrence and it was time to fully bring the day to a close.

Theresa still hadn't gotten too accustomed to the plush limo carting her around everywhere that seemed to have come with her marriage license. When they first married, she protested to having someone constantly chauffeur her around. She had been doing things for herself for her entire life and now the privilege of driving alone was gone. It came with the lifestyle of her last name and her husband reminded her that she was a Crane now and Cranes didn't need to drive. Instead, she found herself with a man named Harold everyday and stepping in and out of the Lincoln limo became a habitual routine that she rarely went without.

As she thought back to her first state of denying transportation, she was now grateful for it. Theresa wasn't sure if she could summon the energy to face the drivers of rush hour. Her days were long enough and the emotional tremors were powerful. On the seat to her left sat a bag she had with her everyday of the week and in it she kept her daily plans-- events, meetings, deadlines, and such-- sketches, plans, ideas, stacks of papers; her life basically resided between thin sheets of paper and three-ringed binders.

Theresa knew others were right. She did work too much. Even though she had no need to work, something comforted her to know that her thoughts wouldn't be wasted on self-pity and remorse. Instead, she rather liked knowing she was working to accomplish something. It kept her busy and surrounded by people. Her spouse, while wealthy and having grown up in such a lifestyle, felt the same. He, too, found pleasure in his career achievement. He hadn't had to work to attain his status-- Crane Industries literally being his birthright. Fox had just begun to head up Crane Industries and Theresa knew it was what he'd always wanted. He was finally coming to inherit the Crane Dynasty as his own and he would be the ultimate reign of it all. Fox swore that Alistair Crane's rule over the empire would be nothing to compare to what he had in store for the company. All innocent and in good nature, new projects taken in by CI would be legitimate and Crane would no longer be feared but respected and for good reason.

Theresa did admire her husband's dedication to his work and hoped that one day he'd reach the outcomes of which he so desperately wished. She, on the other hand, had her own affairs at Crane Industries. She was heading up the new design block of Crane. When Fox first told her about the new addition being added to the company, Theresa was thrilled at the prospect of finally being able to follow her dream. It was the first day on the job that she found out just what her husband had up his sleeve. He had made her the boss. She was in charge of the entire new project including all departments Crane Design would be handling. From advertising to graphic design, modeling to photography, fashion to interior decorating, and even landscaping, Theresa was in charge of it all. If it had to be designed, it had to be Theresa. And they became the Crane royals-- Mr. and Mrs. Crane, rulers of Harmony.

Theresa had to admit that she still hadn't gotten used to the idea of not having to worry about money. And even now, she found herself taking less and less pleasure in her abundant back account. Things such as those no longer took hold and no longer seemed to matter as much. Money, while her family struggled with it her entire life, had once become a dream that she could only wish to hold in bundles and was now a symbol of who she was.

She rubbed her temple, relaxing her mind for the night. The sun had set over Harmony and all that was left were the few lines of orange light stretched across the late summer sky.

"We're almost there, Miss Theresa," Harold's voice said through the partition.

Theresa said nothing and ran her gaze to her driver. He was an elderly man, late 60's perhaps, still an honorable man and a fabulous driver. He went where he was told, never asked questions, never argued and had come to hold a friendly piece of Theresa's heart. A year ago, he had suffered a minor heart attack and Theresa soon learned how lucky she was to have Harold. The attack left him with a slow left side but he was still as charming as before. He had a way about him that came with time and ease and Theresa came to appreciate his company after a long day's work.

_Miss Theresa._

She still couldn't convince him to call her by only her name. For months after her wedding and having just been introduced to Harold, he would only call her Mrs. Crane. She begged him to call her by her first name and he explained that he couldn't possibly call his employer by such an informal manner. He had worked for the Cranes most of his life and addressing any one of them in such a casual way would have gotten him fired. It was well over a year after having met Harold that they finally agreed on Miss Theresa. Not too formal but it didn't make him feel as uncomfortable as just plain Theresa would.

It was a moment later that Theresa noticed the familiar iron grills swing open to reveal her home. She had lived there for the past two years and yet there were times when she felt out of place. The mansion was beautiful, no doubt. It was a turn of the century stone sanctuary for those with money and had once been inhabited by one of the infamous Vanderbilts.

Even though they had the option of moving into the Crane Mansion on Raven Hill-- Fox's ancestral home-- the new Cranes decided they would like a place of their own. It was entirely new for the first-time bride and wife, but Theresa used her flair for design to help her out. Soon, the once bleak and cold mansion was filled with color, light, and warmth. It made her feel more at home when she looked around and wasn't hurt to see four blank walls with a single expensive objè t d'art in the middle of the room.

As Harold pulled the black limo around the fountain and flower-filled turnabout, the large car slowed and Theresa's window faced the front door to her home. With a slow exhale, Theresa stepped out of the limo when Harold pulled the door open for her.

"Here y'are, Miss Theresa," Harold greeted.

Theresa let a small smile spread her lips as she nodded at him. "Thank you, Harold." With a step forward, Harold closed the door behind his mistress and as he walked around the car, he watched her simply stare at the huge house. He could almost sense the lack of anticipation she had for going in the dwelling place. Theresa held her leather case in her hand, not feeling its weight and she focused her attention on the two doors that would lead her inside of the life that she had lived for the two years of her marriage; the life that she had grown to cherish and resent all at the same time.

It was almost down to the perfect minute that Harold managed to get Theresa home everyday. She would walk up the few steps to the front doors at 6:14, sometimes a minute or two later if traffic was bad. Waiting for her return was the caretaker of the grounds, a stoutly man by the name of River. He always took Theresa's bag and coat and welcomed her home with a warm smile that she liked to return on most days. River would collect her items and rush along to put them in their place, leaving her alone in the large foyer that echoed with her footsteps across the marble.

There was a sweet aroma emanating from the kitchen and Theresa followed it through the open corridors of the mansion. When she reached the room with stainless steel appliances and beautiful marble countertops, she found her husband working at something by the sink, a dish towel over his shoulder and he was speaking to someone. It was always something that puzzled her about Fox. He insisted on having a gardener, a housekeeper, a driver, and a few people to do this and that whenever he needed but yet he didn't want a cook in his home. Theresa found it odd that a man like Fox Crane, that grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, actually liked to cook his own meals. He found some pleasure knowing that he could produce a gourmet masterpiece and enjoyed watching others savoring the deliciousness of the food.

His back was to her and she noticed that his hands were busy cutting something and it could only mean that he had his headset, probably doing business as usual. When she heard another voice as she entered the kitchen, she was proven wrong and Theresa learned that they had company.

Fox was busy chopping something when he spoke to his guest. "Well, I don't know. Things get pretty busy at work sometimes so it might not be--"

"Aw, c'mon. If you really wanted to, you could definitely take a couple days and--"

Theresa walked into the kitchen and let her presence by known: "Hey, Whit. I didn't know you were coming over today."

Fox turned at his wife's voice and wiped his hands on the towel over his shoulder. "There she is," a smile on his face. "I was wondering where you were." Theresa smiled briefly before going to kiss her husband on the cheek.

Whitney sat at the table, her hands folded and she stared at her two friends, Theresa more so. She could tell it wasn't a good day for Theresa and it hurt her to see her best friend in such torment with her soul. It was an even more hurtful thought when she knew that if she could see that look in Theresa's eyes, Fox could undoubtedly see it too. Whitney could only imagine the pain that Fox dealt with each day because of what Theresa held in her heart.

"Fox told me he was making his famous pasta so I had to come by," Whitney explained when Theresa took the seat next to her.

"Yes," interrupted Fox, spinning on his heel from the sink to the table, "and you're just in time to eat." Both women smiled and Fox happily laid out his well-planned meal on the table for serving.

* * *

As to be expected, Fox did a marvelous job with his cuisine and they all enjoyed the smooth mixture of exquisite tastes on their palettes. Fox and Whitney ate the delicious specialty vigorously and she noticed that Theresa was taking meager tastes. Her mind was occupied with something other than the meal in front of her. 

Carefully wiping his mouth with a linen napkin, Fox looked at his wife across the table from him and tried to catch her eyes. Theresa didn't notice him staring until he grabbed her attention with his voice. "So, how's work? The new projects okay?"

The four prongs on Theresa's fork were only so distracting and she turned to the voice moments after she heard it, pretending not to be somewhere else. "Hmm…? Oh, the projects… They're all right."

"Any problems?"

"No--no, just uh, it takes a while for new projects to.. you know…" She tried to push back the enormous amount of paperwork she had waiting for her tomorrow morning to the back of her mind and forced herself to think of something more pleasant. They did have company after all. "So, Whit, how's your mom?"

"She's good. Yeah… she got promoted at the hospital. She's some kind of medical manager now. I don't know… but she likes it."

Fox took a sip of his wine as he stared at Theresa's empty smile. "Good. You know, Dr. Russell. She's the best."

* * *

Dinner had gone fine and somehow a cloud of hesitation came over all of them whenever someone started to speak. The quiet was harsh and it seemed that speaking only made it worse. They all sat in silence, occasionally sipping their glasses of fine wine, Whitney taking interest in her nails and Theresa examining the tablecloth. Even though she was a guest, Whitney began feeling uncomfortable and her reckless fidgeting proved it. She desperately wished for someone to say something, anything, to make the mood a little lighter. 

No one spoke.

After taking a full drink of the red wine Fox had poured into her glass, Whitney clapped her hands together and pushed the plate in front of her forward. "Well, that was delicious, Fox. I'm stuffed. Thank you."

Fox's gaze turned from his distracted-looking wife to the rim of his glass to Whitney. "Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it."

It was as if someone had snapped them all out of a trans of some sort and they all seemed to come back to life. Fox took their plates over to the sink and filled his glass with more of the crimson liquid that grew more deeply fragrant with age. Theresa was finishing the contents of her wineglass when Fox spoke to her: "So what are you two gonna do now? Gonna go gossip?" he asked with a playful smile.

Whitney rose from her chair, a mocking look on her face and answered his question while at the same time asking Theresa. "We're gonna go for a walk…?"

Theresa looked up from her swirling glass of wine to her friend. "Um… sure. I could use a walk."

Fox nodded. "Sounds good." He passed Whitney an odd look without Theresa seeing. "Great, you can see the new flowers I had put in the gardens. They're beautiful."

* * *

As Whitney and Theresa made their way outside, leaving the man doing the dishes in the kitchen, they listened to the sound of the crickets' song and the blowing of the wind. Night was falling and the temperature had started to drop a little bit and the sea breeze was kicking in, making the two friends close together and join arms, just as they had when they were little. The grass was soft under their feet and both gathered the scent of early autumn. 

Theresa looked to her right, out to the many colors of the garden and Whitney focused on her feet, slightly unsure of what to say. Fox was right, though. The gardens were beautiful. Flowers and beautifully- trimmed bushes were everywhere. After all, Versailles was nothing without the gardens and fountains.

They walked for another minute or two and soon reached a small courtyard that was, too, surrounded by flowers--no doubt Theresa's touch. "So, we gonna talk or what?" Whitney asked breaking the silence.

Theresa slowed her pace and gave her an apologetic look. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?" As Theresa answered, she unhooked her arm from Whitney's and walked ahead a little, putting distance between the two. As Theresa walked away, Whitney stopped to stare at her oblivious friend. "What?" Theresa shrugged.

Whitney stared at her, taking in the tortured features. She had a defeated look on her face. As if she had lost a tremendous battle and the scars were deep reminders of failure. Then again, that might have been exactly the problem.

"You saw him today, didn't you?" Whitney knew the answer. It was the same every time she asked that question. Theresa said nothing and looked down, silently answering. "Why do you put yourself through this?"

"Through what?" she feigned innocently.

"You know what."

It was a desperate attempt when Theresa tried not to meet her friend's eye. Her throat clenched and she repeatedly asked herself the same question, hating the answer. With a hesitant look at a stone bench in the middle of the courtyard, Theresa took a seat and waited for Whitney to do the same. She did. They sat quietly, both gazing out at the blooms of orchids and petals of hydrangea. Whitney stared at her best friend, wanting so much to take away the torrents of fear and guilt battling inside of her.

"Fox called me today," she began, catching Theresa's attention.

"What did he say?"

It was a minute before Whitney continued, trying to make her voice sound critical and apathetic all at the same time. "You did it again." Theresa didn't respond and returned her gaze to the flowers around her. "Theresa…" Her tone had changed to the way her mother sounded when she was doing something crazy.

"What?" Innocent as ever.

"What?" Whitney repeated. "You said Ethan's name again, Theresa. Do you have any idea how much that hurts Fox? I mean, Theresa… it _kills_ him."

Again Theresa felt guilt hit her like a tidal wave and nodded at nothing when tears formed. "I-- I didn't mean to. It's just…"

"I know, honey. I know… But Fox… I guess I'd be worried too if the person I was married to said someone else's name in their sleep.

Theresa kept her silence and thought back to the dream that haunted her for what seemed like forever. Two years flew by in a flash and it had been years since she had said goodbye to Ethan and yet, he was never really gone. There were times when she would think back to her wedding day and wondered how different things would have turned out. _What if Ethan hadn't shown up that day? What if he hadn't said those things to her before the wedding? What if he hadn't kissed her, leaving her with the most tormenting memory of all? And what if she hadn't seen him cry when she said her vows? What if…_

It was long ago that Theresa learned to give up the What If's and realize that it only caused her more pain. Yet, what she held her heart, what she felt in her soul, nothing would escape and even though it inflicted such anguish on her life, there was a part of her that needed it to survive. For with that pain, with the sorrow and regret, there was Ethan. He was always there. He would always be that memory out of touch and if she gave it up, Theresa was afraid that she would really lose him forever.

She couldn't live with that. _Without him. _

"Theresa, there's only one thing you can do," she heard Whitney next to her. "Ethan-- you _need_ to let him go. Forget about him…"

The images of a tearful-faced Ethan vanished from Theresa's mind and that sickening feeling that she carried with her each day took hold again. Whitney's last words echoed inside her brain and they seemed to carry a sharp edge that cut at her heart. As she turned to her friend, her look of shock etched her face. _Was it even possible? _

"You need to, Theresa…" Whitney's eyes feel to the ring on Theresa's finger and Theresa's eyes went with. It was beautiful, so meaningful, it was also something she hated beyond words. A platinum band held her captured in an inescapable prison and not a day went by that she didn't regret what happened.

"I love him, Whit." It was the simplest thing she could say and yet it was the very truth that held her captive in a fight that she could never possibly win.

Whitney looked down and nodded, carefully choosing her words. "Do you love Fox?"


	4. Lost Dreams

_Chapter 3:_ Lost Dreams

Nothing in his life held what it once used to. Ethan's life had become what he'd always dreamed. He had his job, made his own money, a beautiful house, the trade fame, but still, he was missing something-- missing _someone_.

Every day he came home to the same apartment and everyday he wished it wasn't so empty. There were days that work had exhausted him so much that he'd come home expecting someone to welcome him. Ethan walked off the elevator that led him to his penthouse apartment. As he walked in through the door, he dropped his leather attaché case by the wall.

The apartment was dark and a subtle glow from the world outside came through the large window in the front room. He stood motionless in the open doorway, much like he usually did. His apartment was well-furnished and decorated in his taste, reflecting that lavish Crane that he was brought up as. Breathing a deep sigh, Ethan switched on the light of his lonely home. The ceiling above flickered once and with a surge of electricity, illuminating with neutral light.

How did everything manage to get to this point in his life? Everything around him didn't seem to make any sense and now as he looked out of the window of his penthouse, he wondered why things had happened as they had. Tiny lights scurried along the streets below and suddenly Ethan's world seemed even smaller than he thought. His weary eyes stared down at the world he once held as a place of magic and possibilities. It was nothing more than a world that caused him pain, hurt his soul, and cut his heart with deep inflict. As he forced his composure back to himself, Ethan's left hand rubbed his eye and his right arm jerked back, pulling his suit jacket from his body with ease.

Every night, after repeating the same day, Ethan entered his apartment and followed the same routine. He'd drop his keys on the stand by the door, walked through to his bedroom, and remove his suit jacket before throwing it somewhere. He sat on his bed, releasing the stiffness of his back in a breath. He sat and stared at the walls of his room. Nothing important or special adorned them. Then the picture caught his eye.

Atop the varnished redwood of his nightstand, in a black frame, sat the picture that he kept only for reasons that tortured him. It was taken the day his life ended two years ago. On the right was his brother, Fox, and he was on the left. Both were in tuxes-- but the image of him and his brother wasn't the reason he'd kept it so long. Between the two men, she stood in her white dress, a forced smile on her face. He took the picture in his hands and his thumb traced the glass over her face, as if he could really feel her…

* * *

_The wedding was over and somehow Ethan's heart still managed to beat. Throughout the ceremony, Ethan sat silently, crying and dying inside. As the new bride and groom walked back down the aisle together, Theresa forced her gaze away from Ethan. She saw him staring at her with pleading eyes and it took every ounce of strength she had left to ignore the desperate stare that she could feel deep inside. Ethan had watched as the woman he loved pledged herself to another man and still he couldn't believe it. The reception was next and he knew he shouldn't go. He knew he couldn't go. Everything that was right and logical told him he shouldn't go to the reception-- but he did anyway. _

He wasn't sure why. He didn't know if he went because he needed some kind of closure or some assured proof of the reality surrounding him, or if he wanted to try again. Hundreds of questions, answers, and emotions coursed through his mind as he pondered. He and the other guests arrived at the hall before the couple. Everything was beautiful and the flowers reminded him so much of Theresa. White roses were everywhere-- just the kind she'd always wanted at her wedding. It was as if Ethan's emotions were being controlled by a water wheel and liquid kept pulsing into his features. His face would distort every few minutes and fight away the tears that he wanted to cry.

_Ethan watched silently from the back of the hall as Fox and his new bride entered the hall and proceeded to accept more congratulatory wishes and hugs. Fox smiled and laughed, and so did Theresa. They acted like normal newlyweds as far as he could see and it was then that he thought that maybe he was wrong. Perhaps she really did love him. What if she really did love Fox…? _

After about a half an hour of socializing and smiles, the wedding dance approached. The band leader called the new couple out to the dance floor and requested that everyone else make way for the ones that deserved the spotlight. The band was ready and they sat motionless until they received the command from their leader to being playing.

Ethan stood at the back of the hall, already imagining the scene before him. He didn't wish to see the first dance between the two. He had no desire to see things that he'd once envisioned himself doing with her being done with a replacement. Theresa once told him that she wanted "At Last" played as her wedding song and only wished to do the waltz to it. Nothing else would suffice; nothing else was enough. Ethan opened his eyes and looked out at the ready couple when Theresa suddenly caught his eye. He could almost hear her song starting as Fox began his first step….

_But it wasn't the right one. _

As soon as the song started, Fox and Theresa were waltzing but not to "At Last." It was a different song that Ethan later identified as "Some Say Love."

It was the wrong song…

He couldn't understand. For as long as he'd known Theresa, he'd always known her to know exactly what she wanted and she got it. That's when he remembered her words…

* * *

Theresa sat with her laptop on her legs and she blankly scanned the screen. "Ethan," she said. "The band needs the complete music list. Have you and Gwen decided on a wedding song yet?"

Her voice brought his focus back to her face. He was so distracted working on his golf swing that he forgot she was in the room with him. "Sorry?"

She sat up and straightened her position on his bed. "Did you pick a wedding song yet?"

He paused, slowly thinking. "Umm… not yet."

"You don't have very long to think about it. The band needs the list in a few days so they have enough time to practice." Ethan didn't say anything and took another swing with his new club at the golf simulator. Theresa stared at him and felt a sense of dread wash over her as she paid close attention to the way the muscles of his back moved with the smooth stroke.

"Well, it's just… I can't think of the right song," he admitted. With a sigh, he returned his gaze down to the floor and propped the tip of the club at the edge of his shoe. "Any suggestions?" He smiled when he asked, hopeful for help.

Theresa stared at him in confusion. The fact that he asked her to pick out a wedding song that he'd dance to after he'd wed a woman that wasn't her was unbearable. She couldn't let him know of her astonishment and pretended to rapture her thinking while nervously moving her hands. "Umm… I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask that sort of thing," she lied.

"Of course you are. You are the wedding planner." His tone seemed to beg and question all at the same time. Theresa didn't know what to say and tried to remove her stare from his face. "C'mon, you have to know of more mushy love songs than I do…"

Theresa suddenly pressed her head quickly, trying to think of the perfect song to describe the love story of Ethan and Gwen. Nothing was coming to mind but depressing breakup songs. "How 'bout I name a few and you tell me if you like them?" Ethan nodded slightly and waited for her to start the list. "_Forever_," she began slowly, "is good. _The Power of Love_… _I Cherish You… Close to You_…" Her mind ran out of ideas and she gave him an apologetic smile.

"That's it? What about _I Will Always Love You _or_ My Heart Will Go On_?"

Theresa suddenly laughed at his suggestions. "Ethan, those are depressing. They're about letting go or breaking up."

Ethan's expression fell. "Oh… yeah, as you've seen, I'm bad at all this wedding stuff."

Theresa laughed again. "Well at least you and Gwen decided on the waltz. That's good for now."

"No, no, no. Gwen decided, I gave in," he said with a smile. "I'm not much of a dancer, but it's what Gwen wants…"

"All right…" Theresa typed something into her computer and looked up. "Okay, the waltz is it then."

"It's not like I have much choice in the matter."

"I've always wanted to learn how to do the waltz. For my own wedding I guess. Makes me think of Cinderella and her prince at the ball." Dreams overtook her and her eyes drifted in thought. Memories of her and Ethan at the ballet flooded her mind and she soon realized that it was one of the happiest nights of her life.

"You don't know how to waltz, Theresa?" Ethan asked, bringing her out of out fantasies. "It's really easy." Once again, Theresa realized how different her and Ethan's worlds were. While she felt that their hearts beat in an interlude together, they could never be the same. He had probably learned to waltz when he was three at a social function with his family, while she, would probably never learn such a sophisticated dance.

Ethan kicked the simulator to the wall and set his club in the corner. Theresa thought he had given up with exhaustion or annoyance and focused again at the work in front of her. She read her notes and opened her file to look over the appointments for the caterer when she heard Ethan in front of her. She looked up to find his open palm staring at her.

"May I have this dance?" he asked softly. Theresa was speechless, motionless, and without thought. She looked from his hand to his face and back again, not knowing what to do or say. _What was he doing?_ Theresa simply sat there, frozen and strained; lost and confused. Ethan smiled in amusement and grabbed her hand from the keys of the computer. "Yes, Ethan, I'd love to dance. Thank you," he said in a mimicked attempt at her voice. He pulled her up and she slowly removed her laptop from her legs, rising to her feet next to the bed.

"But-- what are you doing?"

"Why, I'm going to teach you the waltz, Miss Lopez-Fitzgerald." Theresa stood before him, her hand in his and she suddenly realized that her heart had increased its pace tenfold. "Well, now, in order to do this, we must get a little closer…" He stepped closer and her breathing stopped. He had no idea what he was doing to her. His left hand rose her right and he pulled her waist close to his body. "Like this," he revealed.

Ethan's eyes were captivating and Theresa felt herself being lost; her soul was melting and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening. It was beyond her control now. Ethan saw the amazement in her eyes as he pulled her waist with his hand and he tried not to focus on the curvature of her hip. He could feel the exquisite bend of her body and something inside of him wanted to touch more than just her hand and hip-- something that he quickly suppressed.

"Okay, first thing to know, you move your right foot first. So.. step…" he coached and her right foot stepped back slowly, not sure if she was doing it correctly. "Perfect. Step with your left foot in place, but on your tip toe." Theresa did as she was told. "Do the same with the right." Again, she followed instruction. "Now, put it all together." Theresa slowly stepped back on her right, light on her left, and then on her right."

Within five minutes, Ethan had her dancing across the floor of his bedroom. He taught her the waltz box, the turn, and somehow, she'd been able to put it all together. "You're a natural," he exclaimed, both proud and eager. She had stepped on his foot a few times but he only laughed it off and continued. Their rhythm slowed and her left hand had slid from his shoulder to his upper arm. She could feel the taut muscles beneath his shirt and she tried to pretend she couldn't feel what she desperately wanted to. As they moved, they suddenly began to slow, still keeping in the '1, 2, 3' pace of the waltz, and their faces approached closer together.

They danced, almost unconsciously, still moving their feet but with very different thoughts coursing through their heads. Theresa's eyes had locked on his lips and he tried not to look at hers. She was drawing him in and it was killing him to fight any and all urges he suddenly felt for her. Just in time to break her pushing thoughts, he cleared his throat, breaking the rising tension between them.

"Now, when you and your husband dance to _My Heart Will Go On_ at your wedding, you can tell him that Ethan Crane taught you how to waltz," he grinned.

Theresa laughed at what he said. "Yes, I can. But just not to that song."

"What song would you pick for your wedding?"

Theresa thought for a moment, not sure if she should tell him or not. She thought and decided, distracting herself from his pressing eyes. "_At Last_," she said.

"What?"

"I've always wanted to dance to _At Last_ at my wedding… it's just a dream of mine." Theresa looked up at him slowly, watching for any response that he thought her odd or girlish. There was none.

"Just make sure to include me in on that dream dance of yours," Ethan smirked. What he didn't know at the time was that she had every hope of including him in it. It wasn't until later that he caught what he'd said, and by then, he didn't wish to take it back, nor would he ever want to…

* * *

_Ethan stared at them dance and he could tell by the glances Theresa shot him that there was something missing, something she had obviously chosen not to include. Then he understood why. It was her dream to waltz to a special song. Her dream was to glide across the floor with one of the most romantic songs she'd known with the man of her dreams, her truest love. And in a way, Ethan was thankful for the fact that the wrong song was playing. He knew it should have been him holding her close and looking into her eyes as they danced. It should have been him that put the ring on her finger. It should have been him…_

_The dance was over and somehow Ethan was able to release a breath. Fox and Theresa had walked off the dance floor and went to their table where they were greeted by more guests, smiles, and good wishes for their future together. He focused his eyes on her, watching her every move, her every word, everything. She looked over at him a few times, and his stare never faltered. He wanted her to know that he wasn't leaving, he wasn't giving up. _

_

* * *

A few hours of the reception passed and still the nausea in the pit of Ethan's stomach didn't cease. Everything he saw, from the beautiful flowers to the shiny napkin rings reminded him of his purpose of being there. He didn't belong there. She __didn't belong there. Nothing was right in his world anymore. She was everything he knew, everything he wanted and now, it was gone forever. _

The open bar had supplied him with a drowning anesthesia that could never suppress the emptiness that he felt inside. After two doubles of vodka and a glass of brandy, Ethan's head was pounding and his world was physically beginning to swirl. He kept whatever composure he had left in him to leave his empty glass at the bar and casually walk to the patio outside the hall. The late summer air was beginning to cool against the early winds of autumn and the night sky above had taken on the dark color with shimmering stars.

Ethan was angry. He cursed himself for going to the wedding. He hated himself for staying at the reception and he was disgusted that there was nothing he could do to ease his own misery; a misery he knew would never go away. He replayed his futile attempt to reach Theresa before the wedding in his mind and soon silent tears followed the emotional pain. He stood with no real shape, no real existence, and not a single purpose overtaking his life further.

He'd loosened the tie around his neck and his hair had lost the styled shape after he ran his hands through it nervously countless times. While his physical appearance would never match the inner destruction of his soul, there was something different about him outwardly that was born that day. Ethan stood alone outside for several minutes before he was joined. The woman walked close to him before she said anything. At first, she felt out of place for being around him, almost deceitful, but she finally summoned enough courage to say something.

"Ethan…"

The voice made him turn unexpectedly. He was careful not to spin and fall with the alcohol unbalancing him. He wasn't expecting to see her, and he really didn't think he wanted to. Something about her being with him now made him even more sad that he was for some reason.

"Ethan, are you okay?" she asked.

He didn't respond at first, not really comprehending the situation. He nodded slowly, carefully analyzing swirling events around him. "Oh, yeah, I'm perfect, Whit. Just-- just great." His words were fast and sad when he spoke.

Whitney stared at the broken man before her, not sure what to do. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm…? Oh, you know. I figured the bartender was getting sick of hearing my ice hit the glass." He tugged at the tie around his neck, fidgeting and brushing his eyes.

"I meant what are you doing here_?" Whitney waited for his answer, feeling more and more sorry with every passing second. _

"I like the torture, I guess." He cleared his throat and checked his eyes for any moisture again, trying to hide it from her.

"Ethan, have you been crying?" Whitney was concerned. The pain on his face, the torment that she'd seen in his eyes when Theresa said the two words only hours ago had cut into her own heart as well. To see that amount of raw pain, so much anguish in one look, it was overwhelming for her. Ethan didn't answer the question and pretended not to hear. He looked back up to the stars and distracted himself from everything he hated.

"I love her, Whit. I do. I tried to stop her. I tried to make her understand!" Whitney moved closer to him and then she saw the tears on his face. "How could god be so cruel!"

Whitney stood there, unsure what to say. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. No words could form to express her sorrow, her grief, her compassion, nothing. She felt useless as a friend and helpless as anything now. She stood in the presence of a great man and now she had to see him taken to low lengths. Her heart broke for him and she couldn't think of anything to say. But she didn't have to.

Theresa showed up.

The bride cleared her throat as she approached, quiet and careful not to disturb. Whitney saw her best friend standing there, her train removed and her smile gone. From what she could tell, Ethan wasn't the only one going through hell on this day, nor was he the one going through the most. Theresa, while hiding it well, was already broken inside. Of that, she was sure.

Ethan turned around and saw her standing before him. Whitney left quietly but Ethan barely noticed. Theresa didn't know what to say, but she kept her distance and made no move towards him. He looked at her and he didn't care if she saw him crying. It didn't matter anymore.

"Congratulations," he feigned. He tried to sound happy, almost welcoming, but it wasn't happening. She definitely heard the pain in his voice and it ate at her heart when she knew it was her fault. Theresa said nothing and hesitantly walked towards him. He could hear the heels of her shoes hitting the stone floor as she neared, heightening something inside him.

"Ethan, you shouldn't be here." Her words were soft and still she couldn't look at him. She avoided his gaze by any means possible. She stood next to him, facing the other way, trying not to feel the closeness of his body, pushing any and all memories from her mind.

Ethan could see her hesitation as she spoke and her unwillingness to meet his eye. It didn't hurt him, but he wasn't sure what he felt at that moment. "No, I should be here, but you just don't want me to be." When he said that, Theresa finally looked up at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Ethan looked at her for a moment, disbelieving that she'd asked. As he stared into her eyes, he saw the anguish, the pain, the torture, and what he was sure, the same he felt in his heart-- longing. Her eyes were watery, her own will pushing back tears and cries, but he knew it wouldn't last as long as she wanted. "I'm talking about you dancing to the wrong song. I'm talking about you looking at me before you said anything in church. I'm talking about the way you kissed me earlier." As Ethan mentioned the kiss, she turned her head from him, shaking off the memory that made her heart pound with desire. "I'm talking about this…" Ethan took a step closer to her, careful that she didn't recede. "I'm talking about this…" His hand feathered across her cheek and he saw her flinch to stay upright. Almost as if burning his touch into her mind forever, she closed her eyes and tried to envision what it looked like to have him touch her one last time. Ethan's voice became soft, quiet when he spoke next. He moved his hand lower to her chest and pressed his palm to the open skin. "I'm talking about this…." Ethan felt the increased pace of her heart when he touched her. She couldn't deny it anymore; he knew what he did to her.

Theresa stared up into Ethan's blue eyes, not sure what she could do now. Her throat swallowed hard as she fought the welling emotion. They both stood there, unable to speak, unsure of what to say. Ethan's hand was still upon her chest, pulsing warmth into her heart. She was drawn into him, completely his prisoner by her own choosing. She noticed his face coming closer to hers and yet she did nothing. She waited, a dreadful betrayal consuming her. Their lips were close, so close she could taste his breath and he was beginning to intoxicate her. Thoughts and ideas ran through her mind. Everything around them stood still and swirled into nothingness. Nothing else ever mattered when they were together.

"No, stop," she protested, breaking away from him, fighting her urges. Ethan felt like he was pulled from a dream when she turned from him. But he knew her. He knew her strength was waning and he took advantage of it. Without a word, he pulled at her arm before she walked too far from him and turned her back in front of him. It wasn't hard, it wasn't rough, but he didn't allow her anymore protests or confusion before he kissed her. Unlike at the church that morning, she didn't fight. She stood with him, devouring his mouth as he did hers. Groaning, feeling an increasing need for her, Ethan took full possession of her mouth. His lips moved across hers, relearning her texture, her taste. Theresa couldn't believe the feelings swelling within her. She was caught in a fury of emotions and sensations, as though being carried away by a current, a powerful, uncontrollable current. Wanting more, needing more, she parted her lips under his. Ethan moaned quietly as he deepened the kiss, feeling her tongue spar with his.

Theresa felt his hand encircle her waist and pulled close to his body. She pressed even closer and pushed her lips deeper on him. Both were struggling for air but it didn't matter. All that mattered was this moment; all they needed was each other. Their lips parted softly, swollen and red from suction. Their lungs were breathing rapidly and their breaths caught between them. They stood close and Ethan knew that he'd finally broken her walls against him. She couldn't fight him and at the same time, it hurt him beyond belief when he realized that it didn't matter. While he didn't wear it, he felt the weight of the ring on her finger-- the ring that held her to another man.

"Mrs. Crane! There you are!" Fox cried. "We've been looking for you." He walked out onto the patio over to his wife and Ethan that had just broken apart. "Ethan, hey!" The brothers hugged shortly, Ethan tried to fight a sense of betrayal washing over him. A short man with a camera followed Fox, ready for any pose or shot. "C'mon, let's take a picture. Me with my brother and my bride," Fox beamed. Fox went to Theresa's side and it took Ethan a moment to pose for the picture. He stood next to Theresa, and in an angle that wasn't seen in the proofs, he held her hand. With a quick snap, the picture was taken and both Ethan and Theresa let go of their smiles.

"C'mon, let's go back inside. Everyone wants to see the bride." Ethan stayed on the patio and watched the short photographer and Fox walk back inside. Theresa stayed for a second longer and just stared at him. She knew that by walking away she would be giving up everything she'd ever believed in. With a slow sigh, she silently said goodbye to him, to the man that'd forever have her heart, and went to her husband.

What neither Ethan nor Theresa knew was that Fox had seen them before they broke apart… He'd seen the kiss.

* * *

Ethan traced over the picture again and remembered what it felt like to hold her that close. He remembered what it was to kiss her one last time, to touch her. When they took the picture, he took her hand and she'd grasped his willingly. Ever since then, he'd never been able to erase the look she gave him as she went inside with Fox from his memory. The day that was to begin her life was the day that his ended. Everything about his world became meaningless without her. But just like Theresa, just like the wrong song that she purposely chose, he'd lost his dream that day. He lost her. 


	5. Blurred Realities

**_Chapter 4:_ Blurred Realities**

It was Tuesday and it was yet another day for Theresa. The workload continued and grew as the holidays began to approach. Theresa had already consented on two layouts for the new Crane Design plan and Chris, Theresa's assistant, walked in with his usual swift walk. The fashion designer in Theresa adored Chris' flair for Kenneth Cole and Armani. He was extremely neat and always made Theresa feel better when she needed it.

"T-girl," he began, addressing the notepad in his hand, "Sarah from retail just called about the blue sweaters from yesterday. She said the boxes were labeled wrong."

Theresa breathed an exasperated sigh. "Great… That it?"

Chris' hazel eyes turned down. "No… Dave from Graphics needs the new header, Paul took the week off… oh, and your husband called."

Theresa suddenly looked up from the file she held in her hands. She tried to hide her shock; he never called her. "Did he say what he needed?"

"Nope, sorry, sweets."

Theresa nodded and grabbed her pen before signing off on a new proposal. "All right… can you get me Sarah and I'll try to figure out what's going on."

"No problem. I'm your Cinderella," he smiled.

"Thanks."

Chris threw her an air kiss and swung through the door with his hand on the post. A split second passed and Chris popped his head in again. "Hey, princess." Theresa tucked hair behind her ear as she looked up quickly. "It's almost time," he said as he pointed to his new RL watch. "5:23." Both Theresa and Chris looked to the window and with a swift smile, Chris got back to work.

Theresa stared at the large window that she'd wait by with timely precision each day. She would study the yellow lines of the street below and impatiently wait for the black car to arrive. Theresa stood with her wondrous eyes focused on the transparent glass. She couldn't be sure how long she looked at the window before she walked to it.

Theresa waited until 6:06 and Ethan never came…

* * *

Her ride home seemed to pass slower than usual. There was something wrong--she could feel it. Yesterday was the first time he hadn't been outside her window in over a year. Theresa panicked and didn't know what to think. For over a year she'd see him everyday. _Why would he just stop showing up?_ It didn't make sense and Theresa was becoming increasingly concerned. _What if he had met someone? What if he finally gave up?_ Theresa soon realized the absurdity of her self-posed questions. _Why should it matter?_ He deserved to move on with his life. He deserved to find happiness after what she'd done to him.

She had countlessly contemplated calling him, hearing his voice again, but something kept her from it. She knew there had to be some reasonable explanation as to why he hadn't stopped by her building for the past two days. As she thought about possible reasons for his absence, she pictured his face as he stared at her from his car everyday. The look on his face was deep, concentrated. His eyes were focused and, yet, clouded with something she knew she could never erase. His stare ate into her heart with pain. There was something that Theresa didn't understand when she saw Ethan. She knew she shouldn't, she knew what torture she was putting herself through, yet, she needed to see him… and he needed to see her.

Distracting her racing mind, Theresa turned open her appointment book and scanned her never-ending press for time. While she liked her work, there were times when her own emotions blocked all appreciation for her job. Chris had rescued her from a few days of self-despair and blank staring. Just as she had her bad days of guilt, there were her good ones as well. She couldn't forget that she was living out her dream job and took pride in what she'd accomplished at CI. Just as she was looking over her plans for the following week, Theresa's cell phone sang in her purse to the tune of _Titanic's_ theme song.

Theresa walked in with a smile and a quick-moving River strode towards the door to retrieve her jacket and bag. "I'll take those, Mrs. Crane."

"Thank you, River," she responded. "Is he home?"

River gently shook Theresa's jacket by the collar and folded it in his arms before answering. "He's in the library."

Theresa looked up at the grand staircase before her. "Thank--"

"Oh, Mrs. Crane," he interrupted, "he's with a guest." Without another word, River scampered off leaving Theresa alone in the large foyer. There was a warm light cascading down from the expensive fixture on the ceiling. The Venetian glass shattered light into every possible color and illuminated the room with sparkling beauty. As Theresa momentarily admired the cultural beauty of her home, she focused on River's last words.

_He's with a guest. _

Theresa had no idea what he meant and couldn't quite place the tone that he'd used with her. There was something about the way River spoke; something about the entire day that seemed off actually. And for him to have a guest in the library? It didn't fit right with Theresa at all. There were a thousand and one possibilities and question filling her head.

After pondering a few possible reasons that Fox would have a guest in the library, Theresa slowly made her way to the staircase and finally up the stairs to the second floor. As she passed several paintings and sculptures, she couldn't help but wonder why it was that they were there. Out of the color and insanity presented, she only liked one that hung on the end wall of the east corridor. It was a moderate sized canvas with a black background. There were gashes of red and orange sliced through the painting. Sometimes, she looked really closely and she could almost make out a window and a door, one entering the other. There were only brief moments while staring at it that she could truly get the artist's meaning and wish that she could climb through the painted window amongst the colors.

Theresa's shoes echoed on top of the Italian marble on the pathway to the library. As she drew nearer to the library, she could hear muffled voices from within. The door was slightly open and light made a sliver split the floor. At first, Theresa wasn't sure if she wanted to go in. She didn't know what she expected to find but it was as if something were telling her not to enter.

She did anyway.

As she pushed the door open slowly, Theresa peeked in and saw the familiar books and shelves staring at her. Fox was sitting on the couch. His briefcase was left open on the coffee table and there were papers scattered around everywhere.

His attention was drawn to a thick packet in his hands when he spoke. "Yeah, now I see what you're saying," Fox addressed an important-looking paper. "It says here that Crane was grand-fathered in… Thanks to dear, old, grand pappy." Theresa watched as he read over another document and addressed the open air. "Great, now I won't have to worry about the stockholders having a fit, right?"

A throat cleared and someone handed Fox a glass of brandy from behind the couch. "Technically, because they own stock, they have some miniscule say in how it's run. But really, since this is Alistair's company, I'm sure there's something in the contracts about that… I'll look into it for you."

_That voice…_

As Theresa heard the voice, she stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move, unable to think, unable of anything. The frozen shock left her body stiff in the doorway. Fox took a slow sip of his brandy as he handed Ethan the paper he was looking at.

"Hey," Fox noticed Theresa staring. At the sound of Fox's voice, Ethan looked up. For the briefest moment, between the eleven seconds it took Fox to step from the sofa to his wife, Ethan and Theresa locked eyes through simple air for the first time in two years. After kissing Theresa's cheek, Fox turned back to Ethan. "Theresa, I believe you know my brother." He spoke with a much-avoided tone in his voice.

Pushing back efforts and impulses, Theresa nodded slowly. "Hi, Ethan." The sound of his name, the silkiness of her voice when she spoke, washed over him and he wasn't lost to the crack in her tone. Fox looked from Ethan to Theresa and back again. Moments of thick silence passed and the uncomfortable twitched within Fox's heart.

"We were just going over the new contracts for Crane. I didn't want to keep going under the ones grandfather had when he started the company eons ago, you know?" Theresa smiled her accordance. "Hopefully Ethan can help me straighten this out."

"I'll try," the shy Ethan returned.

"You know, honey," Fox addressed his wife, "Ethan was telling me that he was looking for someone to help him with a new advertisement project for his firm."

"Fox--" Ethan tried to interrupt.

"No, it's okay," assured a calm Fox. "What do you think? Maybe you can help him out."

Ethan eyed Theresa carefully, making her search for the meaning behind his gaze. "No, Fox, it--"

"What d'you say?" Fox hadn't allowed Ethan to interject, nor did he allow Theresa enough time to reject the proposal. A tired Theresa stood quiet for a moment, both men eyed her intently. Something intrigued her though. Fox, she had to admit, was being a little pushy, and Ethan seemed distant. Even the look in his eye was far off. "Great, it's settled. Ethan, my man, with her on your team, nothing can go wrong. You'll be gold." Fox couldn't help but feel lost in a place that he was extremely familiar with, almost as if justifiable assuredness signaled ignorance at best.

"Okay," Ethan drew his attention to his briefcase before handing the brandy down to the coffee table. "I'll get those drawn up for you and I'll call you as soon as I can get them ready." A quick rush of panic filled Theresa when she recognized the simple exchange of pleasantries before departure.

"You'll stay for dinner," Fox insisted.

Upon Fox's words, Ethan turned up and unconsciously played with the buttons on his jacket. "No, thanks, Fox, but I can't."

"Ah, c'mon. I don't see you in months and you wanna run out on me? Not very nice, half-bro."

A quick instant, Ethan shifted his eyes from Fox to Theresa, almost as if searching for some kind of approval or guidance. "No, really. I have to be in court on Thursday and I still have a lot to do."

"But--" Theresa heard herself say.

"You sure?" Fox asked hesitantly. "I can make something really fast."

Ethan lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile. "I appreciate it, but maybe some other time, huh?" With that, than returned his attention to his briefcase and the blue-foldered papers he'd brought with him. "Don't worry, I'll just let myself out."

"I'll call you tomorrow about the plans then," Fox confirmed as Ethan walked out of the library. He looked over to Theresa and tried to read her features for central emotions. "Well," he said, turning her to him. "What do you say I go make us some dinner? You hungry?"

"Yeah, sounds good," she replied softly.

Fox gently rubbed her arms before leaning in to kiss her. "Okay." Theresa smiled when Fox pulled back before he made his way down to the kitchen.

The library was empty and Theresa stared around her, a feeling of confusion beginning to take over. The walls beat with her pulse within her ears when she began to walk closer to the sofa in the center of the room. Her hand, slightly shaky, traced along the arm of the couch at her side. With a quick surge of adrenaline, her heart began to race and her breathing quickened. The realization hit her like stones falling from the sky as she spun towards the door and rushed out into the hallway.

Her feet clapped against the marble as she ran to the staircase and skipped down with vigor. She reached for the door knob and pulled it open, forcing herself into the twilight outside. "Ethan!"

He was leisurely walking to his car when he heard his name. As he turned, there stood Theresa on the steps of her enormous home. The look in her eyes was fierce and torn. He wasn't sure what to say, he wasn't sure what to do. As she took one step closer to him, closing distance between them, he placed his briefcase on the pavement below him, waiting for her.

She didn't say anything as she walked to him, nothing seemed to make sense around her. She was left in the moment that didn't exist; it was stolen time, a far off plane. They stared letting their eyes focus on one another. Theresa's striking heart slowed since she opened the door and soon, her body began its slow regression to normalcy. Swallowing hard, Theresa had to remind herself that she wasn't dreaming, it was real, and it wasn't supposed to happen.

As eager as his heart was, Ethan's position stood firm and he couldn't be sure what he wanted himself to do. The world must have spun on its axis the wrong way because everything around him was out of order. He shouldn't see her. She wasn't his. She wasn't real. He had lost her that day so long ago, and to be so close to her now, it just seemed to go against any cosmic balance that was left in the entropy-filled world.

"I didn't-- I didn't know…," she tried to explain, suddenly not sure of what she planned on saying to him seconds before. Confusion lingered where certainty habituated once before and echoing silence filled her thoughts.

Ethan turned his head down, finding it easier to face the ground than it was her eyes all of a sudden. He took in a deep breath and let his lungs expand with oxygen before turning back up to look at her. Her face had the contorted look of worry and of torment. He couldn't be sure, but there was something legible in her eyes that spoke to him in ways he hadn't heard in years. Slowly, Ethan's hands went forward and took her left hand. He studied it, almost as a scientist would a new fossil, trying to memorize its shape, its texture, its touch.

Theresa watched as Ethan took her hand, and for a brief moment, she closed her eyes and burned his touch into her memory. The feeling was warm and yet so surreal that she could barely feel it against her flesh. He said nothing and held her hand, not sure why he couldn't bring himself to let go. As he stared, he suddenly realized the large diamond sitting on her ring finger-- the very symbol that he would never forget.

She wasn't his.

His hold shifted from her wrist to the ring she wore and he gave it such precious care and yet, held so much contempt for it. The setting sun set the sparkles within alight and they shimmered in his eyes full of hatred and confrontation. Theresa felt ill when he held the ring and as she saw his expression change when he saw it, her heart sunk lower that it had when she first saw him in the library. Something inside of her yelled and screamed and hollered her misery beyond controllable belief. With a last trace over the stone, he stepped from her and quickly towards his care.

"Ethan, wait!" she begged after him. Her plead made him stop in his step. Ethan stood with his back to her, his heart in his chest began to pick up rhythm. "Please…"

He couldn't fight it anymore than he wanted to. Ethan slowly turned back to her. The welling tears in her eyes made his heart ache. He hated seeing her in pain, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it now.

But he wanted to.

Fighting his own reality, as well as hers, he walked towards her and stretched out his hand to her face. Briefly, she closed her eyes and let her mind focus on his touch as he traced her cheek with his thumb. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound could escape. His finger silently quieted her and he fought his own urge to say something, too.

It is said that an eternity can escape in a single moment, but there is less remembered for an infinite hour. The two stared for what could only have been ever, and yet, there was nothing. No epiphanies, no explosions, nothing. Only a silent lingering that had been with them for years. Out through a dimension of time and space, a different plane of existence and celestial balance, they connected. It was something they'd always had and they could speak without words-- they always could-- it was unique to them, unique to each other. It took everything he had in him to tear himself away from her that moment. He thought he would crumble upon walking away from her, but within a flash of silence, a brief instant passed and he was gone from her side.

Theresa's world was shaken and the axis seemed to replace as he walked away from her. He left her side and his burning touch etched on her cheek. Her eyes welled, they begged, they pleaded with the sky, they watched him leave, they blinked away, and finally, against everything she fought so desperately, they cried.

* * *

Fox stood in the parlor of his home, his sneaky nature overtaking him after leaving his wife in the library. He wasn't sure why he did what he did, but as he heard her frantically run down the stairs, he was sure that he needed to see what was about to come. He wasn't sure what he expected, he wasn't sure why, and he didn't want to know any of the facts of how he had come to be here, but as he watched, it somehow all soon began to make sense to him.

Theresa ripped through the front door, not even noticing him in the front room standing next to the window. He could see Ethan walking to his car and suddenly turn around to face her. Theresa had stopped on the steps and Fox could only imagine the shock that both had felt; it was the same he was beginning to feel inside. A strange dread washed over him as Ethan took Theresa's hand, and later, her ring finger. The fact that he was so concentrated staring at it ate at Fox like Coke on a rusted bike.

Fox's composure came back when he saw that neither Ethan nor Theresa had spoken and Ethan began to walk away without anything happening. He watched Theresa's face for any signs of emotion. When she screamed to Ethan, he saw the anguish sketched in her eyes. Ethan turned rapidly and walked to her. When Fox saw Ethan place his hand on Theresa's face, a burning sadness filled him. He couldn't explain it, and yet, he did not react. He stood there watching in the window with no sign of acceptance or surrender. It was all just a blur.

He watched as Ethan walked away for the second time and this time, Ethan got into his car and drove away. Theresa stood there alone and sad. Tears slowly began to fall from her eyes and something inside of Fox ignorantly asked why.

Theresa stood on the steps for minutes later and Fox was sure she would crumble to the ground. She didn't. With wind blowing her hair in front of her face, she watched as Ethan walked away from her for the second time in her life, and this time, he didn't look back.

Fox cleared his throat and forced any feelings of disappointment and anger to the back of his mind, afraid of what they could do to him. Quickly, his finger brushed his nose and he regained his stance next to the window, not allowing such an emotional frenzy betray a Crane.

"Hey," a voice next to him said.

Fox stared out the window and noticed that Theresa was still outside. He turned to identify the speaker and saw her comforting face before him. He passed her a swift half smile and looked away. "I guess you saw that too, huh?"

"Yeah, I did," Whitney responded. "You okay?"

It took Fox a moment to answer before focusing on her question. "Um… yeah-- yeah, I'm fine. _Just _fine…"

Whitney took a step forward and welcomed Fox into her consoling embrace. "I'm sorry…"

For the first time in a long time, Fox felt fine in the arms of a woman. There wasn't guilt, there was no worry that she would pull away too quickly, there was no avoided glance when he looked at her. It just felt like it should have for years. Finally, after two years, Fox finally discovered why he could never see Whitney smile the way she used to.


	6. The Gala

**_Chapter 5: _The Gala**

Life can take turns sometimes and when Fate infuses happiness with drought and pain, the most miraculous can happen.

Smiling: it was something she had almost forgotten how to do. The dress was amazing. Just wearing it set her mind to a time and place and she felt like royalty with her flesh against the expensive black silk and perfect rhinestone. The dark black contrasted her skin fiercely. It was her own design, hardly simple but simply elegant. The back was V-cut to the dip of her back, the front was high at her chest, off her shoulders and the bottom pooled out to the floor behind her like a rippling cascade of fabric. The rhinestones on the dark bodice were few and scattered, making her dress shine.

Fox walked in as she stared again into the mirror, surveying the image she emanated. She barely noticed him, but as soon as she felt his arms around her waist, pulling her in, she couldn't help but throw her head back onto his shoulder. They interlocked fingers and he took in her scent. Her hair, was perfect, he decided. With a slight shimmer due to shine-adding spray, she was radiant; his vibrant light for the evening.

"You look beautiful," his voice whispered against the skin of her shoulder.

"And you…," she spun in his arms, trailing off as she ran her finger down the crisp white shirt of the tux he'd had custom made. "You look _good_." The emphasis she put on her last word filled him with a pounding adrenaline that coursed through his body. Fox licked his lips subtly and slowly bent forward, shortening the distance between them. There was a crystal in Theresa's hair that caught his eye as he looked at her. Theresa's deep eyes stared back at him and understood his beckon. With a sultry smile, she closed the short gap between their lips and returned his kiss hungrily. He pulled her small body to him, pulling her bare back to him and feeling the enchanting softness of the skin he found there. Moans were exchanged and their kiss lingered long between minutes as it continued to steal their breaths.

"Weh," was the only word Theresa could make out of his muffled protest against her mouth. Her teeth showed with a smile as their kiss continued.

Heat was beginning to rise.

Their lips were giving, both taking, and Fox suddenly pulled back, looking deeply. She stared back, question in her eyes. They were lost in the stare, both wondering about the other. That was when she saw his hand. He'd raised his closed hand, palm down in front of her. Theresa wasn't sure what he meant, or why he'd held his hand up. Her smile gave away her curiosity and he knew he'd enticed her. Almost scaring her, he let go of his secret and let it drop down, holding the top, making it bounce around on the tip of the silver chain. "You didn't…" she uttered in awe.

Her widening eyes amused him. "Actually no, I didn't," he admitted. "Harry Winston did. I just bought it." She was speechless with the glimmering stone staring at her and beckoning the light to twitch within its confines of crystal-like diamond. The tear drop shape half the size of her finger spun on the end of a silver chain, twisting and exposing its beauty in the candlelight around her.

Theresa's breath caught as she stared at the flawless diamond. The light in her eyes doubled as she continued to stare at the perfect stone. Fox watched the matching sparkle in her eyes reflect his present. It filled him with a swelling sense of pride and love to know that something like this could touch her so much. Theresa still hadn't said a word and truthfully, it was beginning to worry Fox when she refrained from any comment on his gift. With no warning or hesitation, Theresa skipped the diamond and descended her lips on his in a ferocious and passionate kiss. He definitely got the 'thank you' that was encoded in her mouth. When she pulled back, she could no longer hide her eager smile.

"Does that mean you like it?" he asked mischievously. She kissed him in response again. "Is that a yes? I'll take that as a yes," he said answering his own question.

"Yes--yes," she smiled. Fox brought his hands together, his fingers parting the clasp and pulling the necklace open for invitation. He held it open, waiting for her turn before him. With a swift step, her back was to him and he gracefully draped the stunning stone on her neck before clasping it shut.

The sudden weight of the jewel on her chest was cold and her hand went to touch it immediately. "It's beautiful," she said, turning to the mirror to admire it, feeling the precious rock around her neck.

"Just like you," he replied. Blushing and smiling, she kissed him again. "Okay," he broke the kiss, "we gotta go, Princess or we'll be late." And indeed she was; he'd made her feel just like a princess, the ruler of her realm, the hunter of his heart.

* * *

A black shawl with delicate stones guarded her bare shoulders against the breeze of the night air as she stepped out of the limo. It was a black-tie affair, one just like the hundreds she'd recently thrown herself into. Doliver was the host of the event; it was only the best country club in New England, best run and best known for its clients. 

Theresa and Fox approached the front doors after walking the short lit path from the black stretch. A man in a tuxedo greeted them at the door, collecting their invitation and recognizing them by face. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Crane."

"Hey, Johnny," Fox returned, sliding the invitation to the doorman with his fingers.

The two were proceeded by two couples and more were arriving after them, all of New England's best were convening for one night of elegant splendor. Theresa smiled at a few of the women she'd become acquaintances with. All thoughts of every woman were the same: the dresses. Whether it was Gucci, Valentino, Armani, Chanel, Versace, or a Theresa Crane original, their eyes all thirsted for blood with ravenous envy and conceit.

There was a decorated staircase upon entering the club, the waiters had tuxedos and trays over their heads carrying fine champagne. Theresa grabbed two glasses of white wine as Fox passed his coat and Theresa's shawl off to a short man that said nothing but stood for service. The two looked around, eyeing their friends and familiar faces, admiring the intricate work of the art on the walls. A few of the new arrivals came up to the Cranes to offer their hands and smiles, almost bothering the couple.

"Oh, look," Theresa said, pointing out a tall red-headed woman. "It's Sabrina Caster… And over there," she lifted her wrist casually, careful not to point too obviously amongst the crowd, "it's Mark, your friend from work."

Fox looked around, nodding a greeting to a few people. "Who isn't here?" he asked, noticing all the swirl of people around him.

"You look stunning!" a woman by the name of Margaret Cherring complimented Theresa. "Really, you must tell me, who designed it for you?"

Theresa almost passed the woman she'd met through Fox an inquisitive look as she took another sip from her flute. "It's mine," she smiled.

"No, really? It's spectacular!" She made Theresa blush before turning to Fox. "I bet you're proud of her, huh? Quite the beautiful woman to have with you at all times."

Fox looked down at the woman who had her arm intertwined with his. "She's perfect…" Nothing else was said before the two kissed. Even from far away, their smiles were evident; they were happy. It was simple and easy to read even to the furthest onlookers. Fox and Theresa Crane had something that almost no one could ever remember having seen before: happiness to be together.

Fox couldn't remember the last time he'd been so happy. For almost two years of marriage, he prayed everyday just to see her smile. He wanted so much to make her happy, but nothing seemed to work. And then one day everything had unexpectedly changed. Theresa began helping him cook, welcoming him home in lingerie, meeting him for lunch, and suddenly, he felt the way he did before they got married. They were friends again, best friends, lovers, and married. It no longer felt like a dreaded chore or pushed emotion.

He wasn't quite sure why she'd immediately changed and it didn't really make sense to him. Truth be told, it scared him. It seemed odd that for two years she'd become a person he didn't know— withdrawn, miserable, exhausted, empty. That's all she'd become to him. Her soul was taken, leaving nothing but a hollow shell and a sole memory of what she'd been. Sometimes, Fox would push his doubts to the back of his mind, forgetting and telling himself not to dwell on the past. He had her back. The vibrant, alive, and warm Theresa he proposed to was back and he would never let it fall again. There was only one thing that scared him though: as easily as she returned, what if she reverted back into the solemn confines of dread and despair— the invisible disease that gnawed at his heart, stealing their happiness?

_No. _

Whatever changed her, he decided, was Fate's way of fixing it the way it was supposed to be.

* * *

More and more people began to arrive, spinning the room with fabulous gowns and expensive jewels. Fox and Theresa broke into separate conversations with the same sex: Theresa gossip and Fox business. They didn't stray far from each other and their gazes were even closer, wandering to each other with a smile. Their friends continued jabbering before them but the attention between the couple was unbroken. Fox's focus was drawn from her face when a man on his left tapped his shoulder to ask him about his stocks. As Theresa turned back to her own chat, the women around her suddenly quieted their discussion on charity. 

"There she is…," an elegant woman by the name of Sabrina said, all four women looking to the door. "Mariel Jonsten," she continued, pointing out the blonde. "Just divorced her husband, Luke Jonsten, taking half his billions with her. Makes her the richest one here." She glanced to Theresa, taking her last comment back. "Well… the richest single anyway," she laughed. Everyone stared at the new arrival, waiting to admire her dress.

"Think she brought a date?" a woman on Theresa's right asked.

"Oh, of course. I'm sure she hooked a new puppy to follow her around."

Theresa tried not to focus her attention on the special guest but then something caught her eye. Trailing a foot or two behind her, after checking his coat, was a face Theresa would always recognize. There were a few camera flashes in the ballroom that sprung in Theresa's peripheral vision, but her concentration remained on Mariel and her companion. Without knowing it, Theresa's breathing stopped. Nothing made sense but everything was clear.

"Who's the guy with Mariel?" a woman asked Sabrina, her curiosity peaking along with everyone else's. Theresa's eyes fell down to her feet, her fingers tracing the rounded edge of her glass slowly.

"I don't know," Sabrina replied. "Must have a lot of money to be with her."

"Ethan…," Theresa whispered. "His name is Ethan." The four women huddled around her eyed her curiously, but before they could ask any questions, she walked away, the fiery emotions beginning to build within her.

* * *

Biting an olive from a toothpick, Theresa looked up from her martini. The only thing she could think to do to control herself was drown everything in the flowing liquor at the bar. Nothing felt right. Theresa's head was spinning and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. As she stared into the clear liquid of the glass, she made out the reflection of someone standing behind her. 

"You okay?" he asked, his hand going to her back.

She looked up, tilting the cone-shaped stem from her face, Theresa turned her attention. "Mmm…," her mouth closed over the lip of the glass. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Fox pressed.

Theresa took a final drink of her martini, letting the second olive linger at the base of the glass. She gave no verbal answer but smiled up at him, reassuring his worries. "Yeah, it's just— "

"They getting on your nerves already, huh?" he interrupted.

The lie across Theresa's eyes passed as quickly as it came. "Sometimes I just need a drink before getting into another philosophical discussion about who's gotten the best nose job." Fox laughed under his breath, very much knowing what she was talking about.

"Do you wanna get out of here?" he asked, making her turn up.

At first, it sounded tempting and inwardly she couldn't deny that she did want to leave. She wanted to forget about seeing him and continue with the life she had recently begun again. "Umm… no," she smiled. "I'll be fine. Besides, it hasn't even started yet."

Fox nodded before moving to the side to let her stand from the chair. "C'mon, let's go make fun of Sabrina's Botox," he smirked.

"How sweet of you, Mr. Crane," she said, slipping her arm through his. "I would love to."

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice rang out, quieting chatter throughout the country club. "May I have your attention please," the voice continued. Everyone stopped to listen and realized where the voice was coming from, moving to the ballroom. "It's my greatest pleasure, on behalf of the Doliver Country Club and Lawrence Doliver himself, to welcome you all to the ninth annual Rose Charity Gala." Applause followed the announcement and everyone identified the speaker as Derrick Doliver, the country club's owner's son. He was in his mid-thirties, handsome, and wearing a red tie to match the theme of the ball.

The roses were unmistakable now. Red rose petals graced the crisp white table clothes, bouquets were in every centerpiece, wreathes on the walls and even the ice sculptures were carved into the intricate detail of a rose flowering in dancing waters.

"My mother, Rose Doliver, started this ball nine years ago, and I'm proud to say that my father continues her work to help the children of underprivileged countries." More applause and memories of his mother came with Derrick's words. "Tonight, we gather to celebrate what we've been blessed with and to share that generosity with those that need it. Last year, it was my profound pleasure to introduce a check of $13.2 million to the Rose Charities of the world for betterment in achieving the devastation of this world. This year, I hope to increase that amount." Waiters still walked around with champagne trays, allowing guests to take a drink as they reached for their checkbooks. "Now, before we start the pledges, I would like to introduce you to a very special friend of mine. While I'm sure he needs no introduction, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Foxworth Crane and his wife, Theresa Crane," he gestured to them before joining the rest in clapping.

All turned towards the Cranes with generous applause. "Please, won't you two come up here?" Fox smirked before turning to his wife. They both looked at each other in question. "Come on," Derrick urged again. "Mr. and Mrs. Crane, everyone." Suddenly, Theresa felt sick. The fluttering in her abdomen was no butterfly; it was sharp and deep and it was making her stomach turn. Without another word, Fox pulled Theresa's hand in his and slowly led her towards the stage. She avoided stares as she passed them and she heard comments about her dress. Walking up the brief four steps to the short platform, Theresa sensed the warmth of the lights on her shoulders, blurring her vision before her.

Derrick shook Fox's hand and gave him a quick hug before kissing Theresa's cheek. Fox and Theresa smiled down at their public, both hoping to be out of the spotlight soon. "It was only four years ago that Alistair Crane left this world," Derrick began, "and in that time, the name of Crane has changed. This man," he pointed to his friend, "is the one that has brought respect and honor to his family. I'm thrilled to announce," he said, turning to look at Fox, "that Mr. and Mrs. Crane have presented the Rose Charities with a check of $5 million!" Fierce applause continued at the announcement. Derrick stepped away from the microphone with his hands clapping, allowing Fox a chance to speak.

Fox slowly strode to the supported microphone, the resonating ovation ringing in his ears. He patiently waited for silent attention to return. "Well… The Rose Charities have always been important to me because they are to help children of the world that have been scarred by misfortune, disease, war, hunger…," he trailed off, slightly smiling at his elite audience. "I… um… I wasn't always like this. I didn't always try to do the right thing by everyone. Sometimes, life can bring something that will change you forever." He stopped again, guarding his eyes against the probing glare of the stage lights. "That something came to me and changed me to the person that I am today. I never expected it, but it came anyway. It's been my inspiration everyday of my life… My wife… inspires everything that I do," he finished, gesturing to Theresa, allowing her room to say something.

Theresa stood frozen for a moment, only then taking her vision from the floor, his words flooding her emotions. Fox held out his arm, giving Theresa some reassurance to take the microphone. Hesitantly, her feet walked forward into the drowning bright lights.

"Um…," she stuttered, looking back at Fox and then to the hundreds before her. Theresa's eyes scanned the room around her; from the roses and the crystal glasses, to the deep blue dresses, to the magenta cocktail dresses, to tuxedos, to ties, and champagne. Her eyes stared wide out across the ballroom. Her brain making connections with faces she knew and even the ones she didn't. Everyone quieted their clapping, waiting for her to begin speaking. "Everything… in life…," she started again slowly. Her sentence cut off again with the lack of thought. Her eyes shifted quickly, surveying everything around her. She caught sight of a woman with blonde hair and then her focus turned to the man at her side. They were both shadowed by a large vase atop a table.

Ethan was staring at her from the dark corner, walking into the light when she shared his gaze. His hands were in his pockets, and she quickly saw the look of concentration on his face when she opened her mouth. Millions of thoughts flooded her mind upon looking at him. Nothing seemed right in the moment. He stared up at her, she glared down at him. Everyone else in the ballroom was patiently waiting for Theresa to continue with her impromptu speech, wondering what had all of a sudden captured her nervous attention.

"Everyone has dreams." Her first sentence didn't surprise Ethan. He watched her intently, wondering what she would say. "But not everything in life turns out the way that we'd once believed…" Theresa's eyes narrowed down at Ethan, making her coming message clear. Confusion crossed Ethan's face along with the concentration that he had. Everyone in the ballroom listened closely, wondering how the words she was saying would tie into the charity. "Sometimes, what we most wish for can be taken away from us before we have a chance to grasp it…" Theresa's tone had suddenly become harder, more intense. The somber voice she began with was no longer the same, it was intent. By then, most knew that what she was saying was of a different topic. Theresa's gaze lingered in the corner where Ethan stood, trying to focus her energy on the words she would use next. Ethan gave a small nod when he found her hidden play. "Life will throw us nothing that we can't handle… but help… outside forces can help. This charity focuses on helping those of less fortunate countries and families that haven't been able to reach their dream. I've been very blessed in my life to have what I do. There are many of this world that could never dream of having what I take for granted, or think of the abundance that it's offered in. I want to help make dreams come true. I just want to share what I've been given and hopefully, I'll be able to help others grasp what should be theirs before it's ripped away from them…"

Theresa ended there, leaving the room in a questioning silence, all wondering if she finished her speech. When she refrained from continuing for a few moments, escalating applause arose throughout the ballroom. Ethan stared at her from the far corner, his hands still in his pockets, watching her with his mind conflicting everything before him now. She momentarily shared his eye before Derrick walked up to her, again taking the microphone. Hesitantly, she pulled her vision back to the man speaking, focusing her intent on the man trying to invade her thoughts at the back of the ballroom.

"Thank you, both," Derrick said, patting Theresa's shoulder as he kissed her cheek before she began her descent with her husband. "The Cranes, ladies and gentlemen!" Just as before, a round of applause followed their names as they fell from the spotlight and Fox and Theresa could only be glad that it was over. Fox pulled Theresa to him— close to his body— making her shaking nerves feel more at ease now that attention returned to those that wanted it.

"Here we go, ladies and gentlemen. Five hundred thousand… C'mon folks, it's the same for a four-day weekend in The Hamptons…," Doliver continued.

Fox whispered something in Theresa's ear but she didn't hear it. Above the applause, past the sea of people around her, and unrelated to the $5 million she had just handed out, there was something else that caught her attention. At first, she knew she shouldn't be bothered by a man that she couldn't possibly have a future with. Everything in her current situation dictated that to her; she and Ethan could never be. It was over. It had been over. It was never to be again. What bothered her was as she looked back to the corner against her better judgment, Mariel Jonsten began closing in on unwarranted property. Ethan continued his stare in Theresa's direction but it was then that the richest single woman in the building kissed his cheek, pulling his attention back to her. Ignoring anything else around her, displacing Fox's voice and mixing it with the noise of the night, Theresa's eyes narrowed on the recently-divorced woman and her date. What she didn't realize was that her hand clenched at her side, tightening into a forced coil, pushing her nails into her own skin, spilling blood from her palm.

* * *

It is said that when two people become so close, they are able to connect in ways that they don't truly understand: Mother and daughter, father and son, husband and wife. Fox could easily tell that Theresa's mind wasn't with him, or with the gala for that matter. The tension that was emanating from her soul was making him uneasy, bothering him, cautioning him of his every move and thought. 

Retreating from the party and finding an easier amount of noise, Fox and Theresa walked out to the balcony. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" Fox asked her quietly. He'd noticed that she was staring far off, not really paying attention to anything, but at the same time, looking so incredibly focused on the people surrounding her that she looked fine. But he knew better than that: something was definitely bothering her.

"Hmm?" was her first response. "Oh yeah— yeah, I'm fine. I'm just getting a little tired," she smiled as Fox slowly brushed his hands up and down her arms.

"Nice speech you gave up there," he smiled.

She smiled back. "You too."

"I meant every word. You are my inspiration…" His words touched her heart, his sincerity penetrating her soul with warmth. They kissed, their bodies close, a shared intimacy that comforted them both. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth, eyes closed, their lips reveling in the kiss. Theresa smiled when Fox pulled back slowly, his last words echoing in her brain. Suddenly, Theresa felt a burning sensation itching her palm and was thankful that a deep clearing throat distracted Fox away from her.

"Uh hmm," the sound interrupted. Fox and Theresa looked over, scanning their surroundings quickly before making eye contact with Derrick Doliver's younger brother, Charles. "If you two aren't careful, I might have to charge you with PDA," he smirked.

Fox right away smiled and went to hug the man quickly, patting his back a few times. "Charlie! It's so good to see you!"

"Foxworth Crane…," Charlie said in awe.

"Still saving the world," Fox asked happily.

"Yeah--yeah… You still ruling it?" Fox laughed in return before they walked back over to Theresa. "Theresa…," he sighed, "how are you?"

She smiled slightly when he kissed her cheek hesitantly, feeling a familiar tension between them. "I'm good…" They shared a silence with an uncomfortable aftertaste. Fox sensed the lingering thickness in the air all of a sudden.

It had always hurt him that his best friend never took a liking to Theresa. They'd been buddies since Princeton, bonding over being the ones that never quite fit in their families. Fox suddenly flashed back to when he'd first gotten engaged to Theresa. His first call was to his do-gooder friend, Charlie Doliver. He couldn't wait to hear his friend's congratulatory wishes and excitement, but it wasn't as he'd hoped. Instead, as soon as telling Charlie that he'd finally popped the question to Theresa, it wasn't an exciting tone that returned, but rather an empty feign of enthusiasm that Fox couldn't miss. He wished that Charlie would be thrilled for him after just having found the woman of his dreams, but Fox knew that Charlie was hiding something from him where Theresa was concerned. Charlie tried to hide his doubts with happy wishes for their future together, but Fox knew better.

"So, how've you been, Charlie?" Fox asked, suddenly bringing their attention to him.

"I--uh--I just got back from Columbia two days ago. We had a team out there working with the mud slides from last month."

"Oh, good. How long are you back for?" Fox asked.

"Well, not sure yet. They're planning to head out to Ethiopia next week but I might go out to Indonesia in a few days." He paused, sharing Fox's easy smile. "So, Mrs. Crane," he started, turning to Theresa. "You're doing well… seem to have gotten everything you wanted."

Right away, her eyes tightened against him; his underlying meaning didn't go unmissed as his everlasting notion of her passed through his mind. Fox stood there, watching as tension rose around him, almost feeling the razor-sharp glare Theresa was passing to his friend. "If you have something you'd like to say to me, Charles, just say it." Her tone was hard and empty, scratching through the air, suddenly pumping adrenaline through both men. The three said nothing, Charlie and Theresa locking eyes with silent curses passing.

"Okay— okay, guys. Let's not… get into this again, all right?"

Slowly taking his eyes from Theresa's, Charlie turned to Fox with a small smirk in agreement. "Sure."

"C'mon, let's go get a drink." Fox began leading, gesturing for them to follow. Charlie began walking after his friend when Fox turned back. "Sweetheart, are you coming?"

Theresa held her wrap around her arms to guard her shoulders from the coming breeze. Several feet from the two, she stood unmoving. "No," she heard herself say. "I think I'll stay and get some air." Charlie passed her a look that told her he knew the real reason why she wouldn't join them.

With a small nod, Fox and Charlie walked back into the ballroom, the sudden noise filling their ears. They quietly walked to the bar, both leaning against the surface, waving the bartender over as the man with a bow tie around his neck approached.

"What can I get you, sir?" he asked.

"Scotch rocks," Charlie responded.

The bar man walked away to fetch the request and still the two friends said nothing. Charlie watched as his scotch was gathered and prepared when he noticed Fox's stare. Fox stood opposite Charlie, his elbow on the counter, his eyes fixed and penetrating with silent words. Charlie raised his eyebrows, switching his eyes from left to right, slowly turning back to Fox. "What?"

"What?" Fox repeated. "Charlie. You just…"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay? Charlie, she's my wife! You know, I would think my best friend would appreciate that and treat her with a little more respect."

Charlie let go a loud sigh. "What do you want me to say? I told you you shouldn't have married her."

"Just stop! Stop!" Fox's anger began rising, his hands flying up along with it.

The bartender meekly placed the scotch next to Charlie, interrupting the heated conversation with a small smile before walking away. Taking the short glass in his hand and listening to the moving ice, Charlie looked back up to Fox. "Why? Because after two years of marriage you're constantly wallowing in misery and regret just like I said you would be?"

"It's changed," Fox said sternly.

Charlie took a drink and gave a small laugh. "Changed? Oh, really?" Fox eyed him suspiciously. "Let me ask you something. Did you see how Theresa got when she got up on stage?"

"She was nervous. She doesn't like speaking in public."

"You think so, huh?" He paused, allowing Fox's anger and curiosity to peak. "You didn't see it, did you?" Charlie shook his head slowly, sadly worrying about his friend.

Fox had to control his temper as he spoke. "Just what are you trying to say?"

Charlie said nothing and tried to arrange his words in thought. "What did I say to you on your wedding day right before the music started?" Fox didn't answer, too strained to think to that moment. "Fox, can you blame me? She'll never get over him…"

Carefully pushing the sudden constriction in his throat away, Fox looked back to Charlie. "No… Theresa's changed. She's happy now…"

Charlie didn't let his exasperated sigh go unheard. "Fox, she's never--"

"Stop! Just drop it already!" Fox yelled.

Charlie knew when he'd crossed the boundary point with his friend and he was careful not to add salt to the wounds. The fiery emotion that was bursting within Fox's pupils told Charlie to let it go. He knew what he said about Theresa did hurt Fox but only wanted to secure the happiness of his friend, even if it meant ripping him away from the person that he claimed loved him as much as he loved her. Ever since the first time he'd met Theresa, Charlie knew she wasn't for Fox. He, being a longtime resident of Harmony, had heard the stories of her infatuation with Ethan Winthrop and knew that it wouldn't just disappear when Fox Crane walked on the scene.

The first time Charlie mentioned his suspicions about Theresa, Fox quickly scoffed them off, dismissing any notion of their validity. Charlie tried to explain to Fox that someone didn't have a lovesick obsession with someone for their entire life and instantly get rid of it— especially when the new person involved was a Crane. Charlie had to admit that he could find no other motive behind Theresa's sudden relationship with Fox other than his hefty trust fund. Her track record showed her being obsessed with Ethan then-Crane and shortly married to Julian Crane. He just couldn't believe that it was just mere coincidence that Fox was the third Crane in Theresa's life, third of three to be involved with her romantically.

Charlie hadn't worried much when Fox mentioned a new girlfriend during one of their phone calls. Foxworth Crane never had any trouble finding women to fill his life. As much as Charlie knew the rich lifestyle of comfort, money, and beautiful women, Fox had truly mastered the art of wearing girls as arm decorations. A shock came when Fox said that his new girlfriend was a Harmony local and even more unlike a Crane: his friend. Charlie didn't worry then. He questioned and wondered if maybe his friend was beginning to grow up and was happy for him when Fox said he had high hopes for the lovely Theresa. It wasn't until Fox and Theresa were serious when Charlie finally met the woman that captured his friend's heart; by then, it was too late.

The three met at The Seascape during a chance weekend when Charlie was in town upon returning from a world-helping extravaganza in Chechnya. Fox walked in with a beaming smile on his face and Charlie immediately noticed the look of refreshed happiness. It warmed his heart to see him so happy and couldn't take his eyes from the woman Fox had fallen for. Sure, he'd heard the rumors of Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald being gorgeous, but he had never seen a picture of her. He couldn't help but think that Fox was always finding the good ones. As they sat down to dinner, Charlie was incredibly open to meeting Theresa, wanting to ask her how she'd tamed Fox's wild heart. Fox ranted and raved about the woman at his side, claiming that she was his angel sent to him from somewhere else to save his life and show him the meaning of everything the world had to offer. Charlie couldn't help but notice how soft Fox had gone, but he'd heard all the stories of the unfortunate men that had fallen in love before.

Most of that evening was spent with Fox and Charlie talking, catching up and sharing memories. Theresa listened to them, occasionally asking a question or two. She seemed fun and loving and warm and inviting and completely natural with Fox. But it didn't last long. Even though Charlie knew that Fox was happier than he'd ever been, there was something off about the entire situation. He couldn't be exactly sure what it was, but something… strange filled the air between the three.

Fox again began his praise of Theresa, thanking her for changing his world and professing his heart. There was a point when Charlie wanted nothing else but to reach across the table and slap the man. But then as Fox brought another one of his Theresa speeches to a close, he turned to her and smiled as he called her the love of his life. Charlie searched her expression closely, looking for any visible reaction, wondering if she felt the same. But his answer wasn't in her face. It was in her voice.

She said nothing in return.

With a simple smile, Theresa hesitantly returned the sentiment without saying anything at all. It was then that Charlie understood with flawless certainty what it was about Theresa that bothered him: she didn't love Fox— not the way he loved her anyway. Right away, Charlie fixed his gaze on Theresa, silently telling her that knew everything; he knew her lie.

Charlie tried to explain his doubts to an oblivious Fox, trying to convince him that there was something definitely off about Theresa. Fox wouldn't hear of it. He had already convinced himself that Theresa was the one for him and Charlie was just upset to see him so happy. There was just something in Theresa's eyes that Charlie couldn't dismiss. He couldn't be sure if it was sadness, emptiness, or sorrow that he saw but he was sure that the far-off look in her eyes was not about anything around her; it was something deeper, haunting, something she couldn't escape, something that broke her heart with each pulse. It had to be Ethan. There were times when Charlie would stare at her, watching as she and Fox looked at each other and he knew she was looking at someone else. There was a fog in front of her pupils that she couldn't erase and Charlie couldn't push aside the thought that Fox was only a distraction, something to hopefully remove her mind from the man that was undoubtedly branded in her soul.

"Look, man, I'm just trying to help…," Charlie explained after Fox calmed down.

"Well, you're not. She's my wife, Charlie, and you need to stop forgetting that. Ethan is her past. I'm her life now." The firmness of his voice said it all to Charlie: he was blind. Fox definitely hadn't seen what everyone else did when she was on stage. He hadn't seen it at all. Charlie said nothing else and emptied his glass with a swift turn of his wrist to his mouth. Again, all he could do was pray that his friend would one day understand the prison that he kept locking himself in and push aside his doubts of the woman that held the keys to it.

* * *

The stars above her were sharp and contrasting against the black sky. Theresa remembered her days of stargazing and wishing from when she was younger— much younger and naïve. Her eyes traced over Orion's Belt and The Big Dipper before fixing upon Polaris. The large star gleamed and twinkled as she stared at it, never moving from its permanent spot in the sky. As her eyes locked on the north star, she wished she had the strength to wish again, to hope again. 

The wind picked up and blew softly against her exposed skin, making her grasp her shawl tighter. The past few moments raced through her mind making her conscious thought linger. A burning emotion began to surface when she thought to her time on stage. The way he looked at her... Tears pricked the back of her eyes when she thought to Charlie's comment and remembered how he once confronted her about her true feelings. It hurt to think about it. The dense feeling in the pit of her stomach was nothing new and she hated the effect seeing him had on her. She hadn't seen him in over a month and was beginning to move on with her life, but now… It was as if she'd gotten pushed down when she'd just learned how to stand again.

He was draining her.

The tears threatened again and her world didn't seem real. Nothing did. _She was happy. _She was beginning to realize that life could be good if she tried. _She was happy. _Fox made everyday special. _She was happy. _Her head turned down when she realized the truth. _She was happy. _She wanted to cry. _She was happy_. She was going to cry. _She was happy… _

Wasn't she?

"Hi, Theresa." The voice was soft, light, familiar and echoing in the silence filled with only her breathing in the wind.

She knew the owner of the voice before she turned, both dreading and anticipating seeing him. Her mind conflicted, warring with her and commanding her in different ways. Her breath caught in her throat, the adrenaline pounding her heart and stopping her lungs in shock. They suddenly locked eyes, the air between them standing still and unnerving them at the same time.

"Ethan." Her tone was civil, almost cordial. Almost.

The wind picked up, moving his hair softly. They stared at each other, both careful to keep their distance. They said nothing, silence resonating in the blowing wind and the noise from the party. Theresa's eyes slowly surveyed him, running across his features, questioning him nervously.

She noticed that he looked down and shuffled his feet before meeting her eyes again. "Uh… how are you?" he finally asked.

She was slightly shocked at his question. It seemed inappropriate and out of place as his voice broke through the air around her. No response came to her mouth; silence consuming them once again. Ethan wanted desperately to say something else to her, he wanted her to say something, he wanted anything that would end the dreadful discomfort that lingered between them.

"I'm fine." Again, she made no action to strike a conversation and simply answered the question with a dry tone. Ethan noticed the distance she was trying to put between them. He knew, as soon as he saw her, that there was something bothering her; it was in her eyes and he felt the uneasy pulsing in her heart.

Saying nothing else, she turned her back to him, facing the dark sky once again. Ethan knew her gesture was telling him to leave, not fully understanding why. She'd pulled away recently without any indication as to her reason. It started with the window. Everyday at 5:30 he would pull up to his usual spot right outside her office and wait as the minutes ticked by, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, let her know that she would never be without him; and he never without her. He went to her building for four days straight in a row before he finally got the message.

He wasn't sure if she had been too busy or perhaps had been leaving the office early but he got his answer when she passed the window one day. His heart leapt in his chest after seeing her after so long. For a brief instant, their eyes connected as she looked down at him. As usual, he pushed her all the welling emotion and regret from his heart and hoped she understood what was in his eyes. The moment was gone and before he had a chance to refocus on reality once again, she tore the curtains closed and never looked back down.

She walked away. She said goodbye…

At first, Ethan wasn't sure what to do. Nothing around him made sense at that moment. Tears threatened at first, bursts of emotion rising from his heart. The inescapable pain haunted him through every thought, every movement, every day that followed, but yet, there was nothing he could do. There was a part of him that knew it was probably for the best. She wasn't his. It could never be again. Fox was her husband and there was no room in her life for the man that broke her heart.

Seeing her again still affected him as it always had. Theresa would always be the woman that stopped his heart no matter what she did. She would always be the woman beyond his reach.

"I— uh— saw you on stage…," he tried to continue.

Theresa suddenly knew that he had nothing in particular that he wanted to say to her. The thought that he just wanted to talk to her infuriated her, sending quick blood through her veins. Sucking in sharp breaths through her nostrils and warming against the cold, she spun around quickly, snapping her neck in his direction. "Go away, Ethan!"

Again with his hands in his pockets, Ethan looked up from the ground, shocked at her response. Her yelling at him was nothing else, if not proof, that there was something bothering her. The way she stared at him from up on stage, and even now, was a way that she'd never looked at him before. It was hard, cold, distant, and burning with such intensity that he'd never seen come from her eyes before. Where there once was light and warmth, he found only distain— for himself— and it scared him.

Her eyes lingered on him for a few seconds more after she yelled, the tears threatening the backs of her eyes suddenly making her want to turn away from him; she didn't want him to see her cry, not like this. The hurt in his face was obvious as soon as she'd spoken, and deep inside, despite the burning rage she felt towards him, cut into her own heart as well. She hated hurting him. She hated seeing him in pain.

But it didn't matter.

He'd hurt her deeper than she could ever imagine and his presence was only a scarring reminder of that fact.

Millions of thoughts flooded her mind, pushing and pulling against her better judgment, willing her to do so many things: talk, cry, run, fall, scream, laugh, break. None of the options were right. All she needed, all she wanted, was to get as far away from him as she possibly could… and never look back. It had been just what he'd wanted. Wasn't it?

Ethan wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to go to her, touch her if he could. He wanted to talk to her, hold her and ease the pain she was so vehemently going through. The pain in her voice when she screamed was eminent and still, he couldn't help but blame himself and he wasn't sure why.

The lump in her throat mirrored Ethan's. His proximity was beginning to cloud her mind. She wasn't sure what to think anymore. The look of anguish in his eyes seared into her and hurt deeper than she could have imagined. Still, it didn't matter. She wanted him to know the pain she was feeling, even if it meant she hurt him; even if it meant it was killing her inside to see him hurting. Theresa hated that hurting him hurt her in turn. She hated being in pain over the man that'd caused her nothing but heartache and wanted nothing more than to run away from him forever. Get away and never see him again. She wanted to push him aside and continue with the life she'd recently begun again. She wanted her life back. She wanted to be happy and stop thinking about him.

She wanted so much more than that.

Despite the intense emotions coursing through her, the shameful and dreadful anger, more tears began to fall when images of her desire to fall into his arms crossed her brain. The wonder of being in his embrace, to feel his cheek against hers, hear his whispers in her ear, allowing him to guard her from the cold around her… Theresa cursed herself and sharply forced out any desires creeping up to tempt her. It wasn't fair. Nothing was.

Even as the minutes of silence passed them, Theresa could still feel his presence, she could feel his worried eyes on her back, penetrating into her with concern and guilt. The north star caught her eye again, blinking and beckoning her to relinquish her troubles away.

The shock never left Ethan's eyes and he continued staring at her. He contemplated leaving, wanting to ease the anger he was inflicting. But something made him stay. Her body was rigid opposite him, refusing to let him in. Then suddenly, she started shaking. Through the wind and party noise behind him, he made out the sounds that never ceased to slice at his heart: she cried.

Slowly, painful sobs racked her body, her own resistance fighting and convulsing her body into a physical war with itself. Her shoulders suddenly slumped and he saw her wall crumble. The tears were inevitable now. Theresa tried and failed not to cry. She tried to hide her pain, but it useless. Everything haunting her somehow merged into one giant storm and brew nothing but anguish in her soul. Immediately, Ethan felt the awful wrenching inside of him and soon helplessness came. He wanted to help her, but she purposely pushed him away, rejecting him and any future attempts. But it didn't matter; he'd be damned if he was going to stand by and watch her in pain.

"Theresa…," he said soothingly, his voice half catching in his throat. He needed no invitation and suddenly went to her. At first, he hesitated as he crossed the short distance between them. His feet seemed to hold him back from something, yet his heart was telling him that she needed him and he wouldn't deny her. Pushing his doubts aside, Ethan's hand slowly traced through the air, carefully making its way to her shoulder. The touch to her skin immediately sent sharp pulses ting ling through both of them. Theresa let out a deep sigh at the contact and suddenly felt her muscles relax: it was the same calming effect he'd always had on her. But still she cried.

The solace being offered her was too great too resist. With no sound but her labored breathing and rapid sobbing gasps, she fell into him, allowing him to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his body from behind. Ethan felt her hair against his cheek, losing himself in the scent and the texture that would forever break his heart because of reality. The tears continued to rack Theresa's tortured soul. She gave in, completely relinquishing the doubt she'd felt only minutes ago.

Even holding her, Ethan felt as if there was nothing he could do. The hurt he'd heard in her voice told him he was the reason she was so upset. The sixth sense that tied their souls together told him that it was all his fault. He made her cry. He made her hurt. He was responsible for everything she was going through and there was nothing he could do to stop his path of invisible destruction. And now suddenly, she felt still in his arms. With his eyes closed, he forced himself to believe he was holding her as he once used to, the way he did when they were free; free from the world around, free to laugh, free to be happy… with each other.

* * *

Fox and Charlie parted from the bar, slowly walking back towards the door to the balcony. He ball continued around them and wasn't affected by the serious conversation the men had just had. That was when he saw her. Both Charlie and Fox froze as they approached the open door leading out to the balcony. 

Before ever seeing his face, both Fox and Charlie knew who was standing outside. At first it was shock that stilled their movements and caught their breaths in their chest, but then something else caught hold of Fox, but he couldn't be sure what name to give it. It was something stirring and powerful inside of him. It was something familiar. All too familiar. But what was it?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Fox told himself that Charlie was right. How could he have fooled himself into thinking that the past few weeks of happiness had been real. Even beneath her smiles and laughter, he knew there was something deeper. He knew that sometimes when Theresa looked at him, there was a cloud of despair covering her gaze. The cloud that, no matter how hard he tried to blow it away, still lingered with darkness over his life.

Ethan began walking to Theresa and the two watched carefully as he placed a ginger hand on Theresa's shoulder. It was a long moment that they watched, neither Theresa or Ethan making another move. Fox and Charlie stood entranced, both wanting to know what was to happen next. The deep feeling grabbed at Fox again when Ethan wrapped her in his arms. They saw as Theresa fell into his embrace willingly, allowing herself to be overtaken by a man that wasn't her husband.

"Still think Ethan's her past?" Charlie asked, suddenly breaking the inquisitive silence. But somehow, all Fox could do was watch.

* * *

Ethan wanted to cry. Just knowing she was in such torment was killing him. He held her close to him as the tears spilled, wanting nothing more than to rip away whatever caused her grief— of course, he had no idea that it was him. The moments flew by and Theresa began to once again compose herself. Her crying ceased and her breathing began to return to normal. Even after her sobs dissipated, she couldn't bring herself to leave his arms; and he couldn't let her go. They fit. Time froze them in that one position that couldn't exist. 

Ethan brought his hand to her eye and wiped away trickling tears, hating to see her cry. She let him touch her face, she let him close, she was beginning to let him in and she could see the genuine concern in his eyes. But she couldn't. The moment began to impact her mind. Everything around her came crashing upon her like a wave against a sandcastle, crushing any remnants with power of the sea. Suddenly focusing, Theresa realized that Ethan was looking deeply at her. He had his arms around her, his hands were holding her face, his voice was caught in his throat, and the world around them didn't seem real.

He was holding her. He was touching her. Ethan was holding her. She was giving in.

_No. _

With a force that even scared her, Theresa pushed away from him, ending the moment they'd both been trying to hold on to. Thrusting away from him, spinning around and making sure he wouldn't come nearer, the pain mirrored in his eyes again. She forced herself to look away, wiling the anger to flash in her eyes again. Theresa made herself angry. She made herself furious. She wanted to hate him. She wanted him to hate her. She wanted… she wasn't sure anymore.

He could do no more than surrender and let her pull away. It was evident that she didn't want him, didn't need him. But she did. He knew she was lying to herself, but the fury in her eyes was no act. He knew she was desperately infuriated with him. His heart breaking just to look at her, he let her rip away from his embrace. Her breathing once again quickened with vehemence and her brows tightened. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to comfort, he wanted to ease and remove whatever he'd inflicted.

"Theresa… please…," he begged. She was pulling away, running with everything he could give her, tearing away before he had a chance to beg for forgiveness to an act he didn't quite understand.

She scoffed at his plea, once again reminding herself why she couldn't let him invade her shield. "Go away, Ethan." Her tone was once again the rigid, stiff, empty one he'd heard her yell at him not too long ago. He looked at her with pleading eyes, wanting to know her pain. "Go back to your date." Her eyes told him everything he needed to know now. Or so he thought.

It made sense, all of a sudden. But she was wrong. "No, Theresa, she's not— "

Theresa wasn't hearing anymore. "I said, leave, Ethan! I should have known. You never change…" He didn't understand, but she was just beginning. "It's always the same with you. Blonde, rich, popular… She might as well be an exact copy of Gwen! Little Miss Mariel Jonsten. Wow, Ethan. Just leave. Go back to the rich bitch. Go 'head." She waved with her arm, willing him to leave her side.

Her words hit Ethan like a train. What she said was plundering into him, grasping and tearing him apart inside. He couldn't speak. It was as if he was afraid to say anything that might cause her more grief. But he had to make her understand. "Theresa, Mariel and I… we're friends, Theresa."

Again, Theresa almost choked with a sarcastic laugh. With shiny eyes full of rage, she nodded her concurrence. "I'll bet." Two simple words sent shivers of imposed hatred through him. "You just couldn't wait to have a rich blonde on your arm again, could you?"

"I'm her lawyer, Theresa. She invited me as a friend…" Ethan remained calm, wanting nothing more than to make her understand. Still, even though it seemed as if she was only angry over his date for the evening, he knew there was something deeper that was bothering her and she was refusing to let it out. "Theresa, this isn't about Mariel, and you know it! It started even before tonight."

"No, this is about her, Ethan! You say you're just friends…?"

"Yes, that's it. I helped her with her divorce settlement and we became acquaintances in the process." Ethan defended.

"And you told me you would leave Gwen for how long?" The words hurt him and she knew it. "You're the same liar you've always been, Ethan…" Ethan wanted to say something but the hurt faltered his voice. "And I'm sick of it." Without another word, she walked as fast as she could away from him. Ethan gestured to follow, but he knew it was pointless. She wouldn't talk to him and he knew she wouldn't want to see him. Standing alone on the balcony, he heard her shoes clap against the stone as she returned inside.

This time, she walked away.


	7. Raging Storms

**_Chapter 6: _****Raging Storms **

Fastening a chandelier earring to her ear lobe, Theresa slowly made her way down the staircase. Wearing a khaki-colored suit with an aqua blue camisole cascading on an angle from her hip to her thigh, she was ready for work. River passed her as she approached the last steps.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crane," he greeted as he began his way upstairs.

"Morning, River," she returned with a smile.

It was a new day and Theresa couldn't help but feel refreshed, it was as if an intense rain was going to cleanse and make her world right again.

_Exactly._

Marching across her usual path from the foyer to the kitchen, Theresa's steps echoed in the hallways and against the sponge-painted walls. As she drew nearer to the kitchen, she made out the lower murmur of Fox's voice. By his tone, she could tell that he was talking business—it was the same tone he used whenever he was being the serious side of Crane that had emerged when he decided to make the company completely legitimate.

"Yeah, that should be fine. Great…," she heard him say. Upon entering, she spotted Fox sitting at the table with the newspaper already open to the sports page and the cell phone already attached to his ear. "No—no, that's not necessary. If he has any problem, tell him to call me. Okay? Great. Thank you, Gretchen. Yes, you, too. All right, g'bye," he finished, snapping his phone shut before turning up to Theresa that had taken to pouring herself a cup of fresh coffee. "Morning, sweetheart. I was wondering when I'd see you," he smiled.

The smile on her face was a fresh one, a new look she couldn't wait to show the world. "Well, I don't have much to do today, so I thought I'd take my time."

"Ah," Fox saluted his cup in comprehension.

"A little early to be working, isn't it?" Theresa referred to his phone call.

"Oh, great, the Red Sox won their first game so far. Hopefully they keep it up," he said, addressing the newspaper in front of him and not noticing that Theresa had just posed a question. "Sorry, sweetheart, what was that?"

"Starting work a little early, huh?" she repeated.

Straightening the blue tie underneath his neck, Fox spoke, "Oh, yeah, that reminds me. I made lunch reservations for you."

"You did?" she asked curiously. "Where are we going?"

Fox suddenly looked up from his paper and took a short sip of his coffee. " Oh, not us sweetheart. You with a client."

Theresa furrowed her brow in confusion. What did he know about her clients? He never set up any part of her work before. "What client?"

"I just got off the phone with EW & Associates… lunch is at Dimension at 12:30 this afternoon."

Theresa's brain registered the name and understood it, but still, she had no idea what was going on around her. "EW & Associates? As in Ethan Winthrop & Associates?" Her jaw would have dropped had she not been so preoccupied with keeping her hands steady to hold her coffee.

"The one and only," Fox replied, once again returning his attention back to his paper. Theresa tried to hide the shock on her face and he knew that her heart had quickened without even looking at her. "Sweetheart, you okay?" he asked before taking another sip of his coffee.

Almost lost in a trance, Theresa carefully placed the cup on the counter behind her. "Uh… yeah—yeah, I'm fine."

His eyes locked on her stunned features. "You sure?"

"Yeah," she said, looking up and tugging at the ends of her suit jacket. "I just—uh—I don't really know why I'm meeting with Ethan's firm…"

Fox lifted the long paper and folded it in half before turning his attention to the batting averages of his favorite players. "You're not having lunch with his entire firm, sweetheart. You're just meeting Ethan."

Confusion crossed her face as she silently contained her reaction. Fox's demeanor was strangely and extremely calm. Excuses tore through her brain and she pressed herself for something believable. "Umm, actually," she began, walking over to the take a seat at the table, "I don't think I can. I have a—uh—I have a conference call with Milan about the new line…" Her voice was as apologetic as she could make it but still he heard the lie behind her tone.

"Oh, no you don't," he said looking up. "I checked with Chris about your schedule before you came down."

"Oh," she stammered. "Well… I—I know I have some kind of meeting today…"

"No," he assured. "Your conference call is tomorrow, and all you had written down in your schedule for today was brunch with Sabrina Caster—"

"Well, I can't just stand her up, Fox." Her defense suddenly became strong, as if she were thankful to be having brunch with a woman he knew she couldn't stand. "She's going to Europe next month."

"She cancelled your brunch two days ago. Don't you remember?"

"Oh…," she said dejectedly.

"Are you sure you're all right with this, sweetheart?" His question seemed to catch her off guard as he had obviously taken every step to make sure she would have this lunch.

"Yeah—yeah, I'm fine. It's just… did Ethan set up this lunch?"

There was a beat before he answered next. "No." The pause in his voice was haunting. "I set it up," he admitted nonchalantly. "I called Gretchen, Ethan's secretary, and had her check his schedule."

"You? You set this up?" She tried and failed to hide the shock in her voice.

"Sure. That's okay, isn't it?" Theresa said nothing to answer and unconsciously nodded her head. "It's just that I was looking over some of the plans I had for Crane and when I saw the new layout, I thought of Ethan. And since neither of you had anything scheduled for today, I figured, why not?"

Theresa distractedly poured herself another cup of coffee. "Well, I—uh—I should get going," she said before taking a quick sip from her cup, slowly allowing the brown liquid to warm her body. She waited for Fox to add something but he didn't. "Okay, I'll see you tonight?"

Swiftly lifting his eyes from the averages that had so captivated his attention, he looked up at her. "Uh, yeah. Tonight." His hesitation almost made her uneasy as if he knew something she didn't. With a half smile, Theresa began her stride out of the kitchen, the millions of thoughts accumulating in her brain making her nervous with anticipation with what to do with them.

_What next?_

Fox watched her leave, intently eyeing her sway down into the darkness of the hallway and something began to tug at the upper corners of his mouth. Somehow refined, somehow modified, somehow calm and confused, Fox assured himself that it was set; it was all up to her now and the satisfaction began to ease his soul at the thought. Soon, it would come to a close. After all, it was a legend he was following. It was lore. It was myth. It was to become the deciding factor of his future.

And so the storm began to brew.

The limo ride faded into the blur of the morning sun. Harold drove the plush vehicle the same way he always had, and Theresa stared out the window at the same things with the same meaningless expression over her face. As Harold took a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he noticed that something was different about her, as if someone had stolen the mask she had so well learned to wear. The marks on her face came from years of worry, years of regret and suddenly, with the dark look over her eyes, they seemed more visible than ever before.

"We're here, Miss Theresa," Harold's voice rang out against her thoughts.

Blinking away from the window, Theresa turned her vision to her caring-faced driver. Her mind had consumed her, taken her whole, and she'd almost forgotten where she was going in the first place. Recognizing the familiar black building at her right, the same sidewalk she stepped on everyday, the same revolving door that she passed through with lessening vigor each day, she quickly realized the severity of her world.

Almost as if floating on nothing but strained confusion, Theresa found herself lifting from the limo, walking in the building with the Crane logo above the receptionist, and slowly making her way into her private elevator after nodding a good morning to a few of her colleagues. Her stride was slower than usual as she made her way to her section. Her purse hung loosely in her hand at her side. Chris smiled at his boss and took a note of her fabulous style as she passed his desk, but she didn't look at him. Walking lost, treading mindlessly, Theresa passed her assistant and went to her office with her head hung low.

Immediately, Chris was worried; he knew that aimless look. He pushed back from his desk, rolling his chair before getting up and following behind Theresa to her office. He noticed that she dropped her purse on the couch to his left and she took a seat next to it, head in her hands.

"T?" he asked concerned. She didn't move, she didn't respond and simply sat without animation. "What happened?"

It took a moment, but Theresa finally traced her fingertips over her brow bone, massaging her face and bringing blood into her features as she moved her hands down to her lap. A deep breath prepared her before speaking. "When did he call?"

"What?" Chris asked readily.

"Fox. When did he call you?" she asked again.

The words clicked then. "This morning. He just asked me to check your planner for today."

Her eyes shifted to him slowly. "And?"

Confusion lingered in Chris' eyes still. "And… I looked at your schedule and you had nothing penciled in. Then he told me to schedule a lunch at Dimension for 12:30 this afternoon." Nothing was making sense to him. "What's wrong?"

Theresa let out a deep sigh, forcing herself to push fear from her brain. "Did he say who I'd be having lunch with?"

"No. I just assumed you two would be…," he trailed off as Theresa silently passed him a heavy look. With a pressing stare, she shook her head barely enough to notice. "Jesus," he exclaimed, the stun finally hitting him. "You're not…?"

Putting a mock smile on her lips, Theresa pushed hair away from her face. "Yeah—yeah, I am. I'm meeting with Ethan at Dimension at 12:30 this afternoon." The shock traveled through Chris' spinal chord and called him to take a seat opposite her. "I can't, Chris. You know—you_ know_ that I can't. After what he did to me…" Tears began to pool against her irises, clouding her vision and creating deeper emotion in Chris' throat.

He went forward and grabbed her hands in his. "T, you're the strongest person I know. What are you gonna do?"

Theresa looked up then, the question surprising her. "I don't know." She paused, thoughts filling her brain. "He hurt me…"

"I know," he soothed. Suddenly Chris felt like her brother and her father and still, there was nothing he could do to make it better. "What can I do?"

Chris knew what she was going through and it hurt him to see his friend in so much pain. Shortly after he'd gotten the job at Crane, he and his boss were the best of friends and shared everything. It should have come as a shock when she first mentioned her marital situation, but it didn't. He could tell that she carried a heavy veil over her heart and it was destroying her to carry it alone. He'd known that Ethan had torn out her heart and put her in a deep distress within herself. Whatever being designed Ethan and Theresa to be without each other was cruel, he knew.

"I have to go…" she trailed off solemnly. "I don't…"

"What do you want me to do?" Chris asked eagerly.

"I don't—I don't think there is anything you can do." She feigned a smile again. "Thank you." Chris let one of her hands go and held the side of her face before getting up to leave. After he closed the office door behind him, Theresa slowly walked to her desk, her breathing deeper than usual. She picked up the black phone receiver and tentatively dialed the familiar number.

Not even allowing the woman the ability to think about the situation, Theresa prompted, "What's going on, Whitney? You talk to Fox. What's he doing?"

"What?" The question was confusion as Whitney took the seat before Theresa's desk. After receiving Theresa's call, Whitney recognized the desperate tone in her friend's voice and quickly made it over to Crane Tower. "What's going on?" Whitney asked, her curiosity peaking.

"Fox scheduled lunch for me." Her thought was unfinished. Still, Whitney didn't understand the problem. "With Ethan." The impact hit like waves in a hurricane rushing upon the knowing shores.

"What?" Whitney asked in shock, her jaw dropping in surprise. Theresa didn't answer and let the information settle. "Why?"

Theresa opened her empty hands in gesture, slowly beginning to pace behind her desk. "I don't know. He called mine and Ethan's assistants and set up lunch for us at Dimension. He says it's to discuss a new layout for Ethan's firm." Whitney passed a look that let her know that it was extremely possible that Fox had innocent intentions. "It's more than that," Theresa responded to the silent comment. "I can feel it." Whitney still said nothing, the shock hitting her hard. "Fox didn't say anything about this?" Theresa tried again.

"No," Whitney assured. "Nothing. What are you gonna do?"

Theresa took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "There's nothing that I can do. I can't just skip lunch and explain to Fox that I can't even look at his brother because of what he did to me. I have to go…"

Whitney waited and tried to fathom both situations. Finally, she nodded, the condition striking her and her own realization began to sink in. "No. No, you don't." Her change in determination faltered Theresa's ideas. "You don't have to go."

Theresa looked up, question on her face. "What? Of course I have to go."

"No, Theresa, you don't have to go." The look on Whitney's face suddenly gave Theresa hope. "Theresa, why are you gonna go and put yourself through that? Just don't go. You're your own boss here. Just tell Fox that you don't have time to take on another client and you won't have to do anything with Ethan."

Something made sense in Theresa's mind. She knew she should listen to her friend. She knew she should. Again, she felt an enormous pull in her abdomen, almost as if something were trying to communicate with her. But what?

"Whitney… no. I do have to go. Fox knows that I haven't taken any new clients because I was still recovering from the new lines I had out. No—no, I'll go. I'll go have lunch with Ethan. I can do it. I'll just treat him like every other client I've had. I'll be strictly professional and I won't let my personal issues get involved." Whitney nodded as if she allowed herself to believe her friend. "Yeah… I can do this, Whit."

For a moment, Theresa reassured herself. For a brief instant, she was confident in her abilities to push aside her own feelings for an afternoon. She should be able to do it; shouldn't she? But as quickly as she was sure that she could handle it, the faster she realized that it was impossible. Just thinking Ethan's name was enough to consume her body with a nervous shaking and fear that she would crumble around him, not being able to withstand her own feelings. Despite her burning anger towards him, he would forever control a piece of her that she would never direct under her own power.

And so the clouds began to gather.

Ethan walked through the elevator doors as he did every morning: Armani attaché case in one hand and Starbucks in the other. His usual stride to the reception desk was accompanied by his warm smile and pleasurable greeting. "Morning, Gretchen," he said to the flaming redhead that sat at the main desk.

Taking a moment to look up from her computer screen, she turned up. "Good morning, Mr. Winthrop," she said as she passed him a small stack of mail. "These arrived for you."

Ethan let his briefcase down on the floor next to his feet and he placed the coffee cup on the marble countertop of Gretchen's desk as he took the letters in his hand to inspect their senders. "Thank you."

Gretchen momentarily returned her attention to her screen as a light office ring sounded. Speaking softly into the microphone attached to her ear, she answered the call. "Good morning, Ethan Winthrop and Associates. This is Gretchen, how may I help you?"

Ethan flipped through the small stack of mail and looked closely at a yellow envelope from the ABA. He listened as Gretchen took note of a possible client and made an appointment for a consultation. He was about to open one of the envelopes when he heard Gretchen finish her call.

"New client?" he asked her.

"Maybe. They have an appointment next week at three. Is that all right?" she asked over the song of another phone call.

Waving the few letters in his hand, Ethan tapped the marble top with the corner of his mail stack and picked up his briefcase, leaving the empty coffee cup on Gretchen's desk. "Yeah, perfect. Thanks, Gretch."

"Sure," she smiled at him as he made to walk away. "Oh, and your brother called, sir."

Ethan's attention immediately shifted back to his receptionist. "Oh? Did he need anything?" he asked as he tried to hide the shock in his voice.

Gretchen looked down at the calendar in front of her and shook her head in the negative. "No, sir. He just called to schedule lunch this afternoon."

It was odd, Ethan knew, but he was still pleased at the prospect of seeing Fox. "Thank you, Gretchen. Where am I meeting him? Did he say?"

Shuffling amongst her Post-Its and phone messages, Gretchen finally found her answer. "Dimension at 12:30."

Ethan nodded and snapped the edge of a letter on the desk before speaking. "Great. Thank you, Gretchen." He grabbed his briefcase from beside his leg and maneuvered to head towards his office.

"Mr. Winthrop?" she stopped him again.

"Yes, Gretchen?" Ethan asked as he turned back.

"Mr. Crane said the lunch was for you and his wife…"

The swift smile almost faded from his lips quicker than he could taste it. "His wife…?"

Gretchen simply nodded before turning her attention to her call button. Like most residents of Harmony, Gretchen was also aware of the history between Ethan and Fox Crane's wife. She'd heard the stories and rumors that accumulated in a small town and for Ethan's sake, she'd hoped they were false. Anyone that had to live a life without their true love and sit by and witness them move on without them, she could only imagine the torture it must have caused.

Two associates passed Ethan, but still he stood motionless. He heard greetings to him in the background but somehow, it all seemed to blur and the only thing Ethan could focus on was Gretchen's last sentence. _"His wife…" _

_Theresa. _

The door crashed open revealing an angry and confused Whitney in the doorway. "Fox, what's going on?" she demanded. As she asked the question, she hadn't even looked in the room to find him, but instead spoke in direction of his desk only to find it empty. Her logic returning, she scanned the room and found him simply looking out the window and not even bothering to acknowledge her. "Fox? Weren't you just telling me the other day that things were back to the way they used to be? That she finally moved on? Now you're backpedaling! Why? Why would you bring this cloud back over her head?"

Fox still said nothing and refused to turn to meet her. He had his hands grasped behind his back, his posture perfectly straight as he looked out over the town that his ancestors founded. His gaze continued over the expanse of Harmony out his window and he studied the grays and blacks reflecting off the buildings of the Harmony skyline surrounding him. He suddenly spoke, almost alarming Whitney and making her question if he really did speak: "Ever hear the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite?"

The words made contact with her ears but they registered nothing but confusion as her nerves tried desperately to interpret his meaning. "What are you talking about?" Her impatience was evident in her tone.

Again he ignored her and seemed lost in his own world. His eyes moved over different birds moving in the distance as he watched them lift from the ground and circle in a confusing pattern before answering the question posed. "Hephaestus was the god of fire," he began. Whitney listened intently, suddenly beginning to worry deeply about her friend. "The myth goes that all of Zeus' thunderbolts and craftsmen tools were made by him." Fox's voice suddenly took on the tone of a storyteller, almost as if reading to a child with such sincerity that Whitney could almost feel the words. "After Zeus suggested it, Hephaestus married his daughter, Aphrodite. Even though they didn't want to get married, after a while, Hephaestus started falling in love with her, and he thought she started feeling the same way.

"One day, Hephaestus' friend Helios, the god of the sun that saw everything, told Hephaestus that Aphrodite was having an affair with Ares, the god of war." The words he was saying were making intense connections in her brain. Somehow, before he finished his tale, Whitney was beginning to understand. "He didn't want to believe it so Hephaestus decided that he needed to see it for himself. He set a trap for the two and waited patiently nearby. When Ares and Aphrodite proved to Hephaestus that they were really lovers, he caught them with an impenetrable chain net and dragged them to Mount Olympus where they were judged before the rest of the gods."

_It was a trap_.

It all had suddenly become so clear that Whitney was barely able to think straight. She realized then that he was playing a game of chess; a dangerous one. Playing a game always involved risk. Doing anything in life was risky, she remembered. Living everyday life, whether accepting it or not, was dangerous. But it was as if Fox were deliberately putting everything he held dear desperately dangling in front of a hungry lion. Whitney had never known Fox to be a man that enjoyed the game of Cat and Mouse, but he was doing more than enjoying the game. He was planning it and watching the aftereffects. Whitney just couldn't figure out the reason.

"Fox, why are you doing this?" Her voice was somber, soft, wondering, and hopefully strong enough to produce an answer.

Giving no warning, Fox quickly turned to Whitney. "Why! Because I'm tired of living like this, Whitney! I'm tired of waking up and wishing for something that I don't have! I'm tired of wondering if it's real, if it'll last! I'm just… I'm tired." His high voice shocked her and she suddenly understood. He looked away and tried to hide the emotion in his eyes.

It took her a minute to respond, almost asking for permission as she spoke. "I'm so sorry…" He said nothing at her comment.

There were tears threatening in his eyes but he couldn't let her see. _Cranes didn't cry. Cranes never let their guard down. _

Whitney saw him fighting what his body wanted so much to release. His chest was heaving with his waning defenses and she went to him. Carefully pulling him near, she held him in a tight embrace. Her touch was telling him to let go, to let out what he hadn't released for two years.

_Cranes don't cry_, he reminded himself. _Cranes never let their guard down. Theresa was a Crane. Theresa cried. _Fox had witnessed Theresa cry on more than one occasion. There were nights that he tried not to hear her soft whimpers into her pillow. He would catch her trying not to cry at a mention of Ethan's name. _Theresa Crane cried. Theresa Crane let her guard down._ Finally, not being able to contain it any longer, Fox let go. With the comfort of an understanding person holding him, he cried and let the tears fall.

Several minutes passed before Fox's composure began to return. Slowly, Fox pulled back and wiped under his eyes, trying to hide their redness. He avoided her eyes as if he suddenly felt like less of a man.

Whitney's heart broke at the sound and she felt him hold her tighter against him, burying his face in her shoulder. She wished there was something she could do to ease his pain; she wanted to take away the torture he was feeling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No—no. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, Fox. Come here." Again, she pulled him into a hug just to shortly reassure him.

"Thank you," he said, pulling back enough to see her face. "Thank you for being here."

Before either of them had time to react to his sentiment with words, Fox leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead. It caught Whitney by surprise but she closed her eyes and just felt his lips on her skin. Fox retreated, his thumb tracing her cheek and the moment between them lingered quietly.

Whitney tried to ignore the pounding fluttering in her belly and hoped that he wouldn't notice her sudden blush. She passed him a smile and looked at him hesitantly from under her lashes, almost refusing to meet his eyes. He smiled back her and didn't remove his hand from her face. There was a moment. It was subtle, it was soft, it lingered, and staged between them everything that should have been real in the present. Then Fox felt it. It was the painful ache that reminded him of what he didn't have, what he so desperately wanted to have.

The entire morning flew by quicker than he anticipated and Ethan couldn't control the sudden fluttering in his stomach. He was nervous. He was poised. He was a wreck and he knew it. As soon as he got into the parking lot, Ethan parked his black car and sat in the stillness. He didn't move, didn't speak, he sat and did nothing but stare at the digital clock on his dashboard.

_12:26_

Time was approaching nearer and nearer and Ethan could hear his heartbeat graduate in sound with each passing second. He focused on the changing of the digital green numbers before him and he studied how bars appeared and disappeared as a new minute went by.

_12:27_

Finally gathering the courage, Ethan stepped out of his Lexus and made his way to Dimension's front doors. Carefully pulling one open in front of him, he imagined seeing Theresa smiling before him, happy to see him again. He made up fantasies of what she would say to him, how she would look at him, what she would be wearing… And it all came down to a man in a black suit and tie awaiting his next customer.

After asking the host if Theresa had arrived, Ethan eagerly waited in the lobby of Dimension. It was a fancy place—he'd only eaten there once with an exclusive client. It was the sort of restaurant that served gourmet food that the world-renowned chefs decorated beautifully but only took up half the plate. He nervously checked his watch and contemplated calling her office to make sure she was still coming. He checked his watch again and noted that it was only 12:32 and to be making phone calls already was too soon.

Five more minutes went by and Ethan was beginning to fear the worst. It was hard enough not being able to see her anymore, not being able to talk to her, hold her whenever he wanted, but to be teased like this was harder than he could have imagined. Maybe it was just a game, he thought. A game for what, though? Sighing deeply, Ethan decided to give her five more minutes…

As the black limo came to a slow, Theresa rose her sunglasses from her face to her head. The elegant sign labeling Dimension reflected in her window; the yellow and white borders glinting in the light. An elderly woman dressed expensively passed through one of Dimension's doors and Theresa felt the call. The sickening dread consumed her as the moments passed by. Theresa moved her hand to the handle on the door panel almost as if securing it shut.

"Miss Theresa?" she heard Harold prompt. "We're here, Miss Theresa."

Her breath was catchy, her own nerves taking over and making it impossible for her to respond. She slowly turned to see his caring eyes looking at her in the rearview mirror and nodded her concurrence. It took a moment but Theresa finally steeled herself and reflected on her words to Whitney. _I have to go… _

"Are you all right, Miss Theresa?"

Snapping back to the world around her, Theresa focused her attention on Harold. "Yes. I'm fine, Harold. Thank you."

He watched her as she fidgeted in her lap, holding her purse then pushing it aside. Finally ready and composed, she pulled her sunglasses back down over her eyes. "I'll wait for you, Miss Theresa," Harold explained with his hands still on the steering wheel.

Theresa almost nodded. Her attention was focused and stolen in that instant. She wanted to agree. She wanted to say yes and walk out of the limo with full knowledge that she could escape whenever she needed. But something stopped her. Speech was gone, thought was impossible, and almost as if possessed, she spoke words that were not her own. "No, that's okay, Harold," she heard herself say. "I'll call for you when I'm through."

Harold sat, a look of shock upon his face, but still, he was an employee and he adhered to his employer's wishes. "You're sure?" he asked hesitantly.

_No_, she thought.

"Yes." Her own response surprised her. "I might call Whitney and see her after lunch."

At first, Harold didn't respond, too uncertain whether or not to believe her. "Only if you're sure, Miss Theresa."

She nodded beyond her own control and couldn't help but be frightened by the strange force that had suddenly taken over her senses. Finally releasing the door handle, Theresa took a deep breath and opened the door before stepping out of the limo. Harold watched as she closed the door and slowly made her way to the restaurant with a confident stride. She could handle it, he knew.

And so the wind began to blow.

Again removing her sunglasses from before her eyes, Theresa held the Chanel shades in her hand as she exposed herself to a gray lighting within the building, not helped much by the sunless sky outside. A classical piano filled her ears as she walked towards the host at the podium. "Reservation for Crane," she said softly.

The seating host in a tuxedo smiled up at her. "Ah, Mrs. Crane. Lovely to see you." He was a tall man with brown hair and gray eyes that were almost dark enough to match his tie. He spoke with a refined tone, respectful and eloquent. She simply smiled back at him while he checked his reservation list. "Yes… and you have a guest waiting."

Theresa suddenly stopped stowing her sunglasses in her purse at the man's words. "He's here already?" The stunned tone of her voice was not lost.

"Yes, ma'am. Shall I show you to your table?" He gestured to the open dining room where Theresa identified some of Harmony's finest chatting over tea and discussing finances with a brandy. The host stood with a questioning look on his face. "Mrs. Crane?" Theresa felt as if a swirl of mist was around her. She couldn't move, and she was just stuck in a single moment in time. The outstretched arm the host had opened toward the dining area began to fall with his confusion. "Mrs. Crane?" he asked again.

She was finally able to focus as she pulled herself from the treacherous abyss. "Yes," she blinked. "Thank you." Her sudden lack of consciousness worried him, but he grabbed a menu and led her to her reserved table.

Slowly trailing behind him, Theresa followed through the restaurant towards the back to the table that she and Fox kept regularly. She kept her eyes low, prolonging the inevitable. With a pleasant step, the host approached the table and moved aside to make way for Theresa. Smiling, the escort lay the menu on the table and pulled out the chair. Pulling in a deep breath, no longer having time to compose herself, she had to be ready for this. Holding her head high, she allowed herself to sit in the chair.

"Thank you," she said as her chair was pushed in behind her.

Ethan suddenly looked up from his menu and saw her. With a swift move, he lifted from his seat as she sat down with his hand to his chest to hold his tie in place. Theresa scooted herself closer and took the menu in her hand as Ethan sat back down. She paid no attention to him and only saw him through her peripheral vision above the menu she carefully opened to avoid his eyes.

She surveyed the menu, pushing the knowledge that he was staring straight at her from her mind. Pretending to scan over the salads, her eyes unfocused as she lost concentration on the words before her. Noticing the blue cheese dressing option, Theresa's mind flashed to the dark blue suit he was wearing, a blue that so well complimented his sapphire eyes. As that thought consumed her, she coughed and forced her mind to think of something else.

Ethan immediately noticed how she had refused to look at him when she approached the table, and how she pulled the menu up after she took her seat to hide herself from him. "Theresa…," he tried, not getting her to look up. "Is there something wrong?" She didn't answer and kept her eyes over the appetizers, forcing herself to remain calm. "Why are you being so cold to me?" The tone he gave off immediately told her that his face had contorted with worry. It was the same he'd always spoken about caution to approach a subject. He was being cautious, but at the same time, he was scared. She heard it in his voice. For a split second, she almost felt guilty for the way she'd been treating him. But just as quickly as that thought entered her brain, she quickly dismissed it with the fact of what he did to her as collateral.

As he remembered their last encounter at the country club, he knew there was something that he did that bothered her still, something so deep and so painful that she couldn't even look at him. "What did I do?" he tried again.

That was all it took.

Theresa immediately shot her eyes up at him, not believing his question. She eyed him harshly, wondering if he'd been serious. But then she realized that she didn't care. Nothing could make her care for the man before her now. No matter how much she used to. What he did, what he promised he never would, went beyond all reprimand and forgiveness. She wouldn't excuse it. She couldn't excuse it even if she tried.

Carefully controlling her anger as best she could, Theresa threw the menu on the table, slapping it against the fine china and clanking some glasses. Without a word, she rose from her seat and fled the restaurant, not giving or accepting an explanation. Startled, Ethan stared after her, watching as she marched out of the building. It took him a few moments to react but he quickly took after her, throwing his napkin and menu on the table. Quickly twisting through the arrangement of dining tables, Ethan hastened after Theresa. The man that had seated them watched with confusion as Theresa stormed out of Dimension soon followed by Ethan.

Theresa pushed the doors open as she threw herself outside with her haste. Looking to her left and then to her right, she finally chose her right and she took off as quick as she could without making a scene. She told herself over and over again that she wouldn't let him get to her. She wouldn't. She was strong enough to handle him, no matter what he said or did. The sudden caw of flocks of birds above her head caught her attention and soon she heard the far off rumble of the sky.

A current of air blew her hair in strands across her face, mixing with the angry tears leaving her eyes. The wind around her swirled, clouds circling overhead as barometric pressure began to drop, the air filling with moisture. She passed several buildings before she reached the wooden planks of the Harmony wharf. The nets and fishing boats surrounding her were all too familiar to her, but she paid no attention to them on this trip. Theresa had only one thing in mind: get away from Ethan by any means possible. There was something about being near him now that drove her mad. She hated seeing him, but yet, she wanted to see him and she hated that even more.

"Theresa!" he screamed after her and she quickened her pace. The clapping of her shoes against the cement of the sidewalk grew louder as she hastened her stride away from him. "Theresa!" he yelled again. Turning with a fast pace toward the wharf, she continued on her quest to flee.

Ethan frantically began to run after her, starting his chase to understand. Theresa held her purse to her arm, pushing forcefully against the winds of a brewing storm.

"Theresa! Woh, woh! Wait!" He finally caught up to her, pulling her arm to face him. She stopped against her will, angry that he still had power over her. As she turned to face him, she looked away, refusing to meet him. She had to be strong. Exhaling and almost ready to run away again, Ethan's eyes pressed her with silent questions. He needed answers. He needed to know what was going on. He paced from foot to foot, bouncing words around in his head. She had to talk to him. But would she? "Talk to me… Theresa…"

At the sound of his voice, she looked at him quickly as if the idea were preposterous. She flashed her eyes towards him in deep anger, the look burning with rage. Without a word, she turned and began walking away as fast as she could. Ethan quickly followed after her, his hope waning with each step.

"Theresa, where are you going?" he asked exasperated.

Her fast march continued against the wharf with Ethan close behind. At his question, she whipped around in a stop almost causing Ethan to fall over at the abrupt cease of the movement. Again, she said nothing and stared at him with her angry eyes half answering his question. "I'm walking away, Ethan! Something you should know all about!" she spat behind her, not turning to face him.

The words struck him with confusion, but still something made sense. She continued away from him, almost running with her quick pace. Her echoing steps coincided with a loud crack in the sky as thunder shook the clouds. She paid no attention and still tried to get away.

"Just talk to me, Theresa!" he finally yelled, wishing for their pointless chase to end.

"Why!" she asked as she spun around, whipping her long hair to her throat. Her stern eyes creased to a furrow between her brows. "Why should I talk to you!" Her sudden stop caught him off guard again, making him almost trip.

"So I'll know why you're so upset! What? What did I do!" His question burned her soul with anger. She was furious. How could he ask! How dare he ask! She didn't speak, the emotion showing through her eyes truth enough. Ethan was losing his patience and a vein of lightning cut the clouds above, illuminating the world below. "Just tell me, Theresa!"

"Why should I tell you!" The pain was in her voice and it was tearing into him.

"What did I do!"

She couldn't answer him. She couldn't even look at him. What was the point, she asked herself. He knew; he had to have known. She shook her head and fought the emerging tears as she looked away.

"What!" he demanded again, his temper rising to its thin point. "Damn it, what did I do!"

She tried turning. She could just walk away and never look back. But his voice locked her in that spot. Another crack of thunder roared above and she tried counting the seconds to calm herself, but he wouldn't let it go.

"Tell me, Theresa!" he demanded again. She wanted to tell him. She needed to tell him. Her voice was building inside her chest and it was aching to scream out. Fighting what she knew she should do, she tried to maintain the threatening tears. "What!" he demanded again. He waved his arms out to the side in anger, trying his best not to leave as she requested. "What? Did someone tell you I slept with Mariel? Did I get married again? Do I have a child somewhere?"

"No!" she yelled quickly.

The heat of the moment was building, the fire scalding their souls as their tempers flared, the passion for each other evident in every word.

"Did I stay too long outside the window? What!"

"No!" She shook her head again.

"Then what!"

"You walked away!" she said before he could inhale after speaking. Finally, she revealed the truth.

_You walked away. _

He didn't understand. Her emotion was increasing her breathing rate and she turned down. She couldn't look at him and she didn't know why. Ethan's confusion was clearly etched on his face as he tried to fathom a response. "What… what are you talking about?" he asked hesitantly. "I walked away…?"

A roll of thunder clapped against the clouds and shed loose rain that fell heavy to the earth. Slowly, drops began to fall from the sky; big, wet, and heavy rain started, pouring from the heavens. The desperate rage fueling in Theresa's soul pushed her to cry her agony. The first few drops sprinkled down and fell cold upon their skin but nothing would make them abandon the moment. Little by little the rain began to dampen her hair and his suit was soon speckled with dark water.

"Theresa…? Walked away? Theresa, what are you talking about?" The angry confusion was not lost in his tone as he spoke to her.

She said nothing and tried to regain her poise after her outburst. She eyed him cautiously, almost as if surveying him for both questions and answers that she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. He wanted to know, he needed to know. His heart and soul were aching and bleeding to know her torment, his hand was screaming to ease her pain and take away all affliction. She opened her mouth first but no sound could escape. She was stuck in her own hesitation. And then, almost as if telling a story, the words spilled out beyond her control:

"I was there for you… begging and pleading for you to stay and you just left… You didn't care."

He wished he could understand but still nothing was making sense. "I don't—" he stammered.

Tears cracking her voice, she finally interrupted. "At my house! I ran out to you and _begged _you not to leave! That day when you and Fox were discussing contracts… I saw my chance, Ethan, and I took it." Her voice was softer, quieter, lower than he'd heard in a long time. The crying came next. Her emotion made it difficult to speak, but they both needed this. Just hearing her struggle over the lump in her throat was making it hard for him to keep back the tears. The torture of the memories were wracking her soul and he could feel the pain she was in as she described what happened that day. "You were leaving and I… I ran out to you, do you remember?"

The lump in Ethan's throat was born and suddenly, the tightness constricted his breathing and swallowing. He looked down, avoiding her eyes as the painful memories took hold. He remembered how hard it was to leave her that day, to know that all he had to do was take her in his arms and never look back. But still, when he looked at her, he saw the ring on her finger and the huge house she stood before, all proof enough that she wasn't his.

"You walked away, Ethan… There I was… and you walked away. You just left me there!" Theresa had to yell in order for her voice to be heard over the powerful thunder. The rain began to fall harder against their skin as the storm picked up momentum in the sky. The clouds above grew a dark gray and their clothes were soon becoming drenched.

Ethan didn't know what to say. He knew that walking away that day was going to be hard for the both of them, but he had no idea she would take it so hard. What was he to do? She was married, standing outside the home she shared with her husband; the only thing he could do was walk away.

"Theresa, what did you want me to do? I did the only thing I could do. I had to leave before we did something we would regret."

Heavy rain had pressed Theresa's hair to her face in wet strands, but despite the pouring around them, they refused to move. Ethan and Theresa stood facing each other on the wharf as the storm washed over them. Rain fell into their open eyes and spread their faces with drops and still they didn't move. Ethan wanted to say something, he wanted her to say something but all he could do was stare at the woman that wasn't breaking her eyes from his.

"No," she said shaking her head. "You just left."

"Theresa, no—," he tried but she interrupted.

"You didn't care what happened to me. You left me there because you gave up! You walked away and didn't even look back!" She was crying again, the tears falling quickly went unnoticed in her anger.

"Please, Theresa. I didn't—"

She didn't let him speak and cut him off again. "How could you!" Her breathing was more tried as she cried and tried to yell at the same time. "You didn't… All that time... you came to my window everyday and made me think…" The rain had mixed with her tears and it was impossible to tell which drops on her face were from her eyes with the rate they were falling. Theresa once again silently yelled at herself for breaking down in front of him. But it didn't matter anymore. She was through being hurt by him.

Ethan stared at her, his heart eating itself with the pain in her eyes. Even though he knew why she was so upset, it didn't make complete sense to him. He was missing something. She wasn't just crying because he walked away from her that day. There was something deeper, something more that she hadn't said directly.

_You gave up._

"I guess I was a fool to think…," she trailed off with a sad smile. "But it doesn't matter. You gave up on us." She looked up at him suddenly, making her words final. "And I finally realized that I had to, too."

Finally Ethan understood her pain. But she was wrong. Everything she thought was wrong. How could she think that? He would rather die than believe that they would never have a chance again. "Theresa, I have _never_ given up on us!" Before she knew it, he crashed his lips on her mouth and took her in his arms.

Theresa tried to push him away as soon as he pulled her to him, but his kiss was twisting her mind with weakness. She couldn't think, she couldn't fight, she couldn't move. All she could feel was the cold rain falling on her from the sky and the temperature around her seemed to be rising with each passing second Ethan held her against him. Theresa couldn't deny what she had so close to her and she kissed him back with every amount of energy she could still summon from within the depths of her soul. She grabbed his neck and pulled him closer to her, devouring something she couldn't let go of.

They held each other for a long time, giving into the passion that neither could fight anymore. Ethan was lost in the moment, finally giving the worries and troubles he once had to an invisible being. Everything around him was telling him that what he was doing, what he was partaking in, was something that couldn't exist, something that shouldn't be. But he didn't care. His heart ached everyday with a pounding emptiness that he hadn't been able to get rid of since that day Theresa walked down the aisle and promised herself to another man.

The rain around them was pouring harder against their skin but still nothing could tear them apart. Two years of pent up passion exploded in the invisible space between them. Their lips were pulling, pushing, giving, taking, mixing, dancing. Goosebumps sprung forth on their skin as the old, fiery emotions swirled into full force within their hearts. Ethan could feel her chest moving rapidly against his own and it only added to the fire his body was beginning to spread through his veins.

Their breathing haggard and tried, they pulled apart, but not far. They both kept their eyes closed for fear of losing everything before them and Ethan gently placed his forehead against hers, remaining as close as he could to her. As if denying reality, Theresa refused to open her eyes to look at him. Ethan kept his eyes closed as well, wondering if she was a mirage sent to torment his aching soul. Theresa let the tip of her tongue wet her lips before she leaned in again. Slowly going forwards, she begged with God to put Ethan in front of her. Sighing deeply, her hot breath escaped her mouth and asked for permission. Ethan felt her breath on his lips and his heart leapt. Again, their mouths found each other, this time softer than before, the moment somehow more real than the last.

Theresa's hands pulled at the backs of Ethan's shoulders and held him closer to her. Each noise she made, the light moans and sighs against his lips, sent electric charges through his body that set every fiber of his being on fire. The sensations coursing through both of them in that moment—the freedom and excitement—had never been matched. Completely soaked, their clothes were plastered against their skin and it only added to the amount of access they had to each other. Ethan's hot hands against her back were a sharp contrast to the cold rain and she jumped when he touched her.

It was almost as if she'd had a caged bird within her soul that had been screeching to be released. As she felt him close, the bird took flight and all she could hear now was his heartbeat. Something calm came over her, something she hadn't felt in years. The torrent blew through her faster than the howling winds and her body went numb. The struggled breaths entering Ethan's nostrils echoed her own as they both tried their best to consume oxygen without breaking their connected lips.

Suddenly she felt an invisible parasite gnawing at her brain.

_What am I doing?_ she asked herself.

Her swollen lips answered that for her as she continued to kiss Ethan. The invading thoughts that consumed her then were loud and distracting. Despite the sudden alarms going off in her brain, Theresa clawed at his back and physically begged him closer. She was at war with herself. Everything she wanted, everything she needed, was right in front of her; kissing her, holding her. Everything she dreamt of surrounded her in the rainy moment. All she could ever want was standing right before her—hers for the taking and she couldn't resist. It was as if a deep spell had been cast on her heart and her will was gone now. She would give in completely.

But she couldn't.

Almost as if she were consumed by another being, something that controlled her without her consent, she took back her lips and pushed him away. Ethan's red mouth hung open when she pulled away from him. He stared at her with questions all over his face. Their chests suddenly began moving quicker as their lungs tried to regain the oxygen they desperately needed. Theresa took a step back and put her hand to her lips as if she were asking whether or not it had really happened.

"No… we can't do this," she whispered.

Ethan barely heard her above the noise of the storm around them but he understood her action. She looked down to the wooden floor of the wharf and tried to avoid his probing eyes. With a white flash above them and a sudden rumble of the sky, their attention turned back to the raging storm. Both thinking the same thing, they looked down the wharf until they spotted a blue canopy covering the side of a fish restaurant. Not even thinking about it, Ethan gently grabbed her elbow as they ran for cover, both not seeming to notice that they were already soaked.

Safely hidden under the cover of the canopy, they rested their backs against the brick wall and watched as the big rain drops hit the wharf in small splashes. The wind still blew a few drops into their faces but at least they were out of direct contact with nature's brewing fury. Theresa's mind raced with Ethan's kiss still fresh on her lips, but still, the pressing thoughts of someone else took place. She looked away and did her best to move as far away from Ethan as possible while still under the canopy cover.

"Is it Fox?" Ethan asked as he turned to her.

Theresa quickly turned to him, her eyes giving away the answer. It was Fox. Everything she knew was wrong. She kissed Ethan. She liked kissing him. She wanted to kiss him again. But it was wrong. Fox was her husband and she knew in the depths of her soul that she had to push her own selfish desires away.

But could she? And for how long?

She didn't answer his question, but she didn't need to. It was obvious. Instead, she turned away and lowered her eyes once again. Ethan understood and still something inside of him was comforted at her silence. The way she'd kissed him let him know that she'd wanted it just as much as he did. Her reaction to his touch was plain and he knew what he still did to her.

"Theresa…," he tried.

Quickly, not being able to hear him out for fear that she would cave, she turned to him. "He's my husband."

Ethan stared at her for a moment and he took in her appearance. Her bangs were pressed against her forehead with the rain and her camisole, the one he'd only imagined was extremely expensive, was now practically ruined and plastered against her body. Her curves were free for his eyes to wander over and he had to tell himself not to stare. Theresa moved her gaze back down and then into her purse as she scrambled to find something. Ethan caught a glimpse of the diamond she wore on her left hand and it pained him. Distress immediately shot in his heart when he saw it and he said the words before he could stop himself.

"Who did you love more?" he asked her suddenly.

Theresa immediately stopped looking in her purse and turned back up to him. The look on his face was one of concern and genuine sincerity. She was shocked at the question and she wasn't sure how to answer, or whether to answer at all. She held his gaze for a long time and still no words came from her mouth.

"Me?" Ethan asked hopefully. "Or him…?" His throat constricted and she heard his swallow to conceal the emotion building against his Adam's apple.

Theresa continued to look at him, unmoving in her own surprise. She didn't know what to say and her mind had gone completely blank at the question. Ethan took a hesitant step forward as he awaited her answer. She didn't give him one. Her open mouth confused him just as much as it did her. Ethan knew what he wanted to hear. He knew what he needed to hear. But at the same time, part of him wished to hear the opposite. Maybe if he heard that, he'd finally be able to let her go.

Finally ending the moment of silence, Theresa refused to give in to such shock and turned back to her purse without answering. Ethan didn't know what to think. She wouldn't answer the question and he noticed her grabbing her phone from her purse. He watched as she flipped it open and after she pressed a few buttons, she pressed it to her ear and waited. She said nothing and held the cell phone against her ear for a few minutes. Theresa pulled the phone back and stared at it in confusion. Again she pressed some buttons and held it back against her ear. After she pulled it back to look it again, she snapped it shut and threw it back in her purse.

"No signal?" Ethan asked.

Theresa simply shook her head. "I—I have to go," she stuttered after taking one last look at him. Quickly pulling he purse to her shoulder, Theresa headed out from underneath the canopy and into the pounding rain. Ethan barely realized his quick movement to grab her and the next thing he knew she was back with him underneath the canopy… _very_ close to him.

"Where are you going?" he asked softly.

Theresa looked up, his eyes pressing into hers and his soft voice caressing her ears. "My driver… he's not answering. I have to go," she tried again.

"Theresa, it's pouring. I won't let you walk in this," Ethan explained.

His concern for her broke her heart. "I don't have a choice. I have to..." She was falling into him again as if he were hypnotizing her. "Get away from you." Theresa pulled away from him again and tried to walk away.

"Theresa, wait," Ethan stopped her again, his hand on her arm. "Please, you can't walk in this. Especially not all the way to your house. Why don't—why don't you come with me?" Her look told him that she wasn't going for it. "Please. I don't live far from here and when we get there, you can call your driver. You'll get sick if you walk through this storm. Please."

Somehow, he'd convinced her and they began walking the three blocks to his apartment building.

She walked in front of him slowly, both leading the way and waiting for him to show her where to go. After Ethan pressed the call button for the elevator, they both waited for the transport box to open its doors and take them to his floor. When the ding above them sounded with the sliding open of the silver doors, Ethan allowed her to enter the elevator before him. After he pressed the number twelve, they stood in silence with their arms to their sides as they were lifted to his penthouse apartment.

His proximity was surrounding her and she forced every thought out of her head that seemed to distract her from the thoughts that she needed to keep in mind to stay somewhat angry. The more she tried to focus on his past actions, all she could think of was how he kissed her only minutes before on the wharf. It was the first time she remembered feeling entirely alive in near two years. Almost as if the rain around her had signified a whole new world, she let all her cares flee to the circling winds. Everything she needed and wanted was in that moment when their lips fought against each other.

Ethan tried to keep his vision straight and not let his eyes wander to the side where he was sure she was doing the same. In the silence between them, he could swear that he heard her heartbeat grow faster. His mind was still reeling from the feeling of her lips against his only moments ago. He had pulled her to him on the wharf in the rain and still he couldn't deny that all he wanted to do in that moment was push her against the wooden rail of the wharf and have her right there in front of the world. He'd been dreaming of it for such a long time that it took an incredible amount of control to not follow through.

The sudden ding brought both of them out of their thoughts as they both looked at each other awkwardly when the doors opened. Ethan extended a hand and allowed her to go first. Theresa waited for him to lead the way, not sure which door was his. Ethan went to the door farthest to the right and pulled his keys from his pocket. After he opened the door, he left her walk in first, again proving himself the gentleman.

Theresa took in her surroundings and couldn't help but feel that it was very Ethan. His touch was everywhere. Everything looked expensive but not overly so that his apartment looked untouchable. The large windows she passed had her in awe as she realized that all of Harmony could be seen below. The rain cascaded against the windows in sheets as the storm still hammered upon the earth and it reminded Ethan that they were both sopping.

"There's… uh… towels in the linen closet," he said as he motioned toward a door on her right. Theresa stopped for a second as she turned to listen to him and then she focused her attention on the door. She'd almost forgotten about her wet clothes and couldn't wait to dry herself. She removed the blazer she wore and draped it over the couch. Suddenly she felt the chill as the air conditioning met her chilled skin.

He watched as she opened the door, making sure she found what she needed. As he placed his ruined leather wallet and keys on the table by the door, he eyed her confused staring into the linen closet.

"Top shelf," he hinted.

Her gaze shifted upwards and she found the plush towels that radiated warmth and called to her chilled body. She reached her arm up and her fingers lightly touched the soft cotton, brushing and intensifying her need for something to wrap her body in. Her feet flexed against the floor, lifting her heels and extending her legs to allow her further reach. Even though her shirt was oversaturated with rain and its weight was pressing into her body, as she reached up, the hem rose and something building inside Ethan stirred as he scanned the reveal of her midriff. Theresa's arms pulled at the shoulders of the shirt covering her bodice, exposing her trainer-toned stomach, only intensifying the burning inside of Ethan's body.

As if in a trance, Ethan watched Theresa move with such simplicity, almost as if dancing, and several moments passed until he finally realized that his mouth was unconsciously letting his jaw fall open. Ethan quickly ripped his stare from her body and walked over to her. He pulled the door all the way open and reached up, feet flat as he reached past Theresa, his lower body brushed against hers and they both felt the fiery chill run through their bodies. Ethan's hand grasped the soft fabric and pulled it down. He gently wiped water drops from her face with a quick touch of the towel. Theresa watched him dab her face and he finally handed it to her, the folded form falling into an open expanse.

They stared at each other for a long time and she simply held the towel up at shoulder level. They were quiet, no sound other than their breathing and the rain against the windows. Confused, Ethan stared at the towel in her hand—unused, grasped—and he wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. An eternity had escaped by the time he could manage to think of other things besides the indention of her hips or the curve of her body or the light in her eyes.

With much displeasure, he cleared his throat and watched her eyes change focus. His head turned and he was about to walk away when the towel fell. Ethan's eyes turned back to Theresa and her hand was motionless, the tight form now opened and he understood that she dropped it purposely. He was about to pick it up for her but the look in her eyes told him to leave it. Again, forever passed between them and they spoke through stares. With a hesitant stride, she stepped forward twice, much closer to him; their bodies were only minor inches apart.

"It's always been you…" Words so simple, so perfect, lit his heart on fire. She answered the question he'd posed back on the wharf and suddenly, his world made sense again.

He needed no invitation as her heart pulled him in and he pulled her body against his. Despite the cold of their clothes, their body heat was rising and their mouths were liquid fire. He collided into her mouth, invading her lips and they ran short of breath when their hearts learned the pace. It was deep, it was intense, fiery and passionate, it was a kiss that would change their lives forever.

There was something between them that they couldn't explain. It was beyond lust, beyond love, beyond destiny, beyond hope and dreams, past passion, and far from desire. Whatever the two shared, whatever their connection was, it bound their souls forever.

Ethan pulled her body to his and he felt himself responding against her. Theresa sighed into his mouth, overwhelmed with the moment. Ethan's hands were scraping along her back, tormenting her sweetly. Lifting his fingers under the hem of the back, Ethan caressed her damp skin with his electric fingertips and pulled the camisole over her head, sending it to the floor with a slap. Wrapping his arms around her small waist, Ethan pulled her to his body and lifted her from the floor.

The exhilarating feeling of being in his arms and no longer touching ground completely consumed her. Even though she couldn't touch the floor, Theresa worked at removing Ethan's tie from around his neck while he kissed her. A few buttons ripped from his shirt in the haste Theresa showed, but neither paid much attention. Finally, reaching the doorway to Ethan's bedroom, Ethan let her feet touch the floor again, allowing her balance and allowing himself access to the rest of her clothing.

The rapid tearing open of his shirt sent buttons flying and exposed his chest beneath quickly. Theresa pressed at his back, pulling him closer to her, wanting to feel his heart beat against her own. Their kiss was long, achingly and wonderfully long. Their lips had yet to break apart with the exception of essential breaths forcing air into their empty lungs. Ethan's mind was pounding with the moment. Thought was quick and broken, concentration left only on the exquisite feelings her tongue was eliciting against his lips. They didn't open their eyes for fear that they would watch the other disappear into the blur of a dream.

Theresa pulled her hands to his front and pressed against his smooth chest, touching the warm expanse of skin fresh on her fingertips. Her touch was excruciating to him. Every sound she made, every sharp breath, every touch, every lick, every kiss was sending him down into a fiery pit of no return. His hand at the base of her neck pushed her mouth closer to his and he entangled his fingers in her wet hair, increasing his own need to feel her.

The wetness between them seemed to go unnoticed, especially surrounded in rising heat. Locked in a deep kiss, Theresa pushed Ethan to the nearest wall and heard a moan escape from deep in his throat as his back made contact. Fumbling around quickly, the two wasted more time trying to figure out if they were thinking. Quickly unbuckling his belt, Theresa pulled the leather with a swipe from his belt loops, granting herself more access to him.

Ethan kept running his hands up and down her back, torturing her sensitive skin and teasing her with abandon. The bra she had on was wet and heavy against her skin, but he wasted no time in sliding his hands beneath the clasp and pulling it off her body. As he exposed her damp body to the air, Theresa's skin rose in goose bumps across her arms and legs. Her response encouraged him further and he pulled at her lower back, forcing her against him and making her feel him against her thigh. Her movements against him were causing him aggravation but it was too desired for him to stop. Theresa immediately noticed the way his breathing climbed and became shorter as she rubbed against him and she was enjoying the power she felt. His eyes shut tight in a wince as he was trying to contain himself and she couldn't help but smile to herself with the knowledge that she was mounting such sensation in him.

For several minutes, Theresa moved against him and watched under low lashes as he responded and tried to contain a moan behind his teeth. She rotated her hips and let her pelvic bone scrape along his tightening pants. Ethan felt the pressure and he squinted his eyes shut. She enjoyed the feel of him and suddenly Ethan could barely stand. His body was reacting to her every movement and he was certain that if he let it continue for an instant longer, their moment would be cut short in his inability to control his body around her. Everything she did made him hunger with desire and the passionate animal that he'd concealed long ago was ready to be released. He needed more than a simple second of pleasure with her body against him. He needed to be against her without the barriers of clothing.

He needed to be inside her.

Quickly chastising himself at his sudden selfish thought, Ethan pushed Theresa against the wall with a hard shove, making her throat open in a soft yell as her shoulder blades made contact. His eyes were the darkest she'd ever seen them, and yet, the light in them was brighter than ever before. As she leaned in for a kiss, Ethan met her with his tongue and wasted no time in colliding their mouths together. Theresa helped him unzip her pants before she let them fall to the floor in a discarded puddle. Distracting her with his lips, Ethan pressed Theresa into the wall and slid her higher, taking her thigh in his hand and pulling it up. Her skin was hot against his palm, hot and soft and as he slowly slid his hand up, she shivered as anticipation began to rise within her chest. She wondered what it would be like to have him touch her entire body like that, to have him slowly torture her until she was sure she would die from pleasure.

Ethan held her leg up and used the wall to keep her high against him. Millions of thoughts flooded his mind with what he wanted to do to her in that moment. His hand snaked up higher to her pelvis and her body shook. He knew what she needed and he wanted to give it to her. Inching lower, Ethan found the soft material that barred them from each other. Using his index finger, Ethan hooked his hand around the silk and pushed it to the side. She was revealed for him, completely under his control. Wasting no time, Ethan put his mouth against her jugular and sucked, his teeth scraping and pulling, his tongue lapping harshly and Theresa's body was shaking in response as she waited for him to touch her.

Hearing her desperate moan above him, Ethan pushed her back into the wall and suspended her weight on his hand as he was sure she wouldn't be able to stand in the coming moments. He pressed his thumb against her nerve and slid his fingers into her wet heat. Theresa moaned at the feeling and her hips bucked against him. Ethan watched as her face contorted with pleasurable agony and he felt himself grow more solid at the power she was giving him with her body. First, Ethan went slow, both enjoying the feel of her and reveling in the sensations between them. Her heartbeat was climbing and her hips began moving faster as the pressure began to build within. Ethan hastened his pace with his hand as he watched her face change emotions as sensation after sensation coursed through her. Near reaching her crisis, she writhed against him and arched against the wall so hard that her shoulders hurt from the pressure.

The leg Ethan held began shaking and he immediately quickened his gestures. He could feel her pulsing around his fingers and he knew she was close. Theresa pulled his body closer—her elbows resting on his shoulders and her forearms drew his head nearer to her. Her moans were becoming more and more shaky and the yells she was trying not to release sounded almost painful as her body dealt with the power that was racing through it. Ethan smiled to himself as he recognized her peaking. Still moving faster against her, Ethan attacked her neck once more and with a soft bite, Theresa squeezed his head as she crashed around him. Her body was in overdrive and her breaths were shaky as he continued to stroke her nerves. Her body was trying to come down but his hands wouldn't let her. The feelings mounting were unbelievable and it was on the brink of pain as her body, already highly sensitive, couldn't help responding to the assault he took. Immediately she began building again and her hips fought against the wall with the gripping pleasure that her body could barely handle. With another cry that Ethan couldn't distinguish from pleasure or pain, she let out a loud sigh and gripped his head once again as another orgasm hit her body. The shaking that followed was uncontrollable and Ethan enjoyed seeing her so sated in his arms.

She continued writhing against him and he finally removed his hands. Theresa could feel heat and pulsing where his hand had been and she suddenly felt empty.

"More…," she breathed against his ear.

Ethan smirked as he pulled back to look at her. He was only too eager to give her more. The constraint he suddenly felt was beginning to throb in pain when he realized that his own pressure was building without release. Theresa followed his quick blink downward and slowly raked her nails across the bulging area. Ethan hissed at her movement and slowly settled her legs back down to the floor. Theresa did it again and her eyes grew darker with desire when he sucked in a careful breath. She was enjoying his reaction and it only fueled the heat that was pooling in her body.

Her action was making him weak and he didn't trust his own legs to hold him up. Theresa used the inside of her palm against him and smoothed it against the fabric of his slacks. Ethan watched her at first and the more she enjoyed touching him, the harder he grew. Almost falling on her and crushing her against him, Ethan quickly slapped his hands against the wall behind her to keep himself upright. With his eyes closed, he hung his head low and his body tried to contain the uncontrollable pleasure that was racing through him. Through his pants, Theresa clawed her fingers around him and he jumped within her hand. Ethan snapped his neck up as a moan sprung free from his throat. Theresa felt the twitch in her hand and it made her body shake.

She needed him.

Ethan leaned towards her on an angle with his hands against the wall and his hips behind him. Theresa took the access given to her and worked at unbuttoning his pants. Why he still had them on, she wasn't sure. Ethan looked down at her fumbling hands as she quickly tried to release them from his body. Her fingers moved quickly and her movements in that area only made his pants feel tighter against him. Finally undoing the button and the zipper, Ethan suddenly felt relief flood over him. Theresa grabbed at the waist and pulled the dark blue pants down his legs as she crouched down. Ethan deftly kicked off his shoes and allowed his pants to completely leave his body.

As soon as Ethan had freed himself of the slacks, he pulled Theresa back up to him and grabbed her into a hard kiss. She didn't resist and let him roughly push her against the wall again as he took her mouth. She went back down and he felt her cup him in the palm of her hand. With a quiver in this lips, Ethan broke from her kiss and bit his tongue at a desperate attempt to keep the mounting yell within his throat.

The pressure building within him was strong and the ache between his legs was only surpassed by the shooting pleasure he felt going through his nerves. Even using all the self control he possessed, he couldn't take what she was doing to him for much longer. He had thoughts of simply lifting her against the wall and taking her hard and fast, making her scream against him as he pounded into her from below, but there was something stopping him. As fast as they were moving in their desperation to feel the other, what they craved was more than sex in the heat of the moment and he knew she also felt that pressing need for something more. After all their time apart, longing for each other, they needed to go slow, savor the intensity they felt, burn each and every sigh into their memory, and live in a minute that, for only them, would last for eternity.

Theresa squeezed him through his briefs and Ethan was sure his body was on fire now. His heartbeat quickened and then he felt her snake her hands inside his underwear. The feel of her skin on his was driving him mad. His fingers tensed against the wall bent and his knuckles bent as his fingertips lifted his palms. When Theresa removed the last piece of clothing from his body, he was perfectly straight and she could feel the pulsing that his veins were sending through him.

After choking on another loud moan, Ethan had to do something or he was sure that the moment they both wanted to last forever would be over before they needed it to be. Ethan pulled her against him and lifted her from the floor again as he kissed her. She was so small and her weight was nothing in his arms. She removed her hands from him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he began moving. She didn't open her eyes to look where he was going; she already knew where he was headed. Moving the few feet across the room, Ethan carried her to his bed and fell on top of her without breaking their kiss.

Theresa felt the plushness of the bed against her back and his hard weight above her. The contrast heightened the moment somehow and her nerves sent her sensation reception into overdrive. It was nothing but skin on skin and they both took advantage of the feeling. The damp heated flesh against their bodies tingled and their senses were barely able to handle that much sensation at once. Their bodies were soon becoming numb with the frenzy of pleasure shooting through them and all they could do was claw at each other desperately to regain the feeling that they never wanted to let go.

Ethan's right hand went to her breast, teasing her nipple, peaking the skin he found there with his fingertips. Theresa opened her mouth against his and let out a silent moan as the heat shot through her veins. Ethan smiled down at her and knew what he wanted to do next. He wanted to see her writhe beneath him, desperate and pleading when she said his name next, and he would do whatever he could to make that happen. Noticing that her chest was rising and falling quickly as her strangled lungs begged for desperate gulps of air, he turned his attention to her neglected breast and worshipped it with his tongue. He pulled the tight peak between his lips and grazed it with his teeth gently. Her lip quivered with a strangled cry and Theresa's hands immediately went to the sides of his head and pulled him closer to her chest. Ethan rolled her other nipple between his thumb and pointer finger as his tongue continued its assault on the one in his mouth.

Theresa was sure she would die from the agonizing pleasure that he was igniting within her, but he was far from finished. She moaned louder and louder as he continued ravaging her with his mouth. One of his hands snaked down her side and slid around to her abdomen, tracing the light ridges of her ribs. The brush of his fingers on her skin sent shivers down her spine and still he continued moving his hand along her body. She vaguely felt the pads of his fingers slide down past the line of her pelvis and lower until she felt him on the throbbing and ultra sensitive junction of her legs. She gasped as he placed pressure on her tiny ball of nerves and her body grew more rigid with the coming tide of sensations.

Ethan continued pulling one nipple into his mouth before turning and giving the same attention to the breast in his hand. Just the feel of his body against her had set her mind on fire and she had to close her eyes to contain the ricocheting emotions. Ethan continued his ministrations on Theresa's body despite the painful urge to be inside her. His finger pressed low on her nerve and he felt her hips buck suddenly. He was driving her mad just as each noise she made sent sparks to his groin.

Theresa clutched the sheets at her side, tightening her palms and arching her chest into Ethan's mouth. Quivering moans escaped her lips and she could see the coming white flash. Ethan felt the shaking beneath him, his finger still stroking her and his tongue still bathing her. He knew what was coming, but it wasn't time. He stopped all his actions and simply kissed her lips lightly. Theresa was suddenly surprised by the cease of pleasurable assault and her body screamed at the halt of its release. She could feel Ethan's hard arousal against her stomach when he came up to kiss her, and in her annoyance, she rotated her hips. Ethan broke the kiss suddenly, a soft scream falling from his throat. He teased her so she would tease him.

Slowly sliding her hands down from his sides, Theresa ran them down and took hold of his erection. She squeezed and ran her fingers down, noticing his grunting. It took everything in Ethan not to thrust into her in that moment. His self-control was waning with each passing second. Acting on impulse, Ethan quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her hands to the side. Ethan kissed the pulsating center at the base of her throat and slid a line down her torso. Theresa reflexively pulled her thighs apart and let his waist fall between. Ethan's heartbeat was audible now as they both recognized what was coming next. She wrapped her ankles around his calves and tried to beckon him closer.

The world around was quiet, the only sound was the pounding of heir hearts and the impact of the rain hitting the windows. Theresa's eyes locked with his, the brown frozen on the blue above her. The intensity they both found before them, the desire, the strong, raging passion echoing in the silence around them. Both lost in the moment, their minds were racing with disbelief. Ethan was aching to move, his body straining to contain itself. His hand slowly slid across her abdomen and around to beneath her back, arching her closer. Theresa felt the sharp flutter in her belly when he touched her and took in shallow breaths to account for the heightened sense spreading throughout her body. Ethan saw the darkness her eyes took on as he felt the flesh against his fingertips. They were lost in the moment, both lost in their own passions.

"Is this real?" she finally asked, her voice brushing his skin with caresses of her breath.

Her question caught him off guard, but he couldn't deny that he was asking himself the same thing. He wanted to speak, he needed to speak, but his voice found no words to express himself. It had to be real. God would be too cruel to only make this a dream.

He needed this. He needed her _desperately_.

She stared up at him and hoped that he wouldn't disappear. She'd often dreamt about him in this way, but the dream would always end before she needed it to. It left her confused and hanging. This had to be real.

She needed this. She needed him _desperately_.

When he didn't speak, she could feel the panic rise within her. His hands under the arch of her back slid back out to her arms and pulled them up over her head, tracing the damp skin he found there. No longer was the rain still lingering on their bodies—it was their own heat between them. He slowly slid his hands over her arms, pushing them upwards. When he finally reached her palms, he grasped between her fingers and clasped their hands together. Theresa's breath caught as he touched her, her senses heightening quickly.

Ethan knew this was real. It could be nothing else. Even when he dreamt of her in this way, it never felt like this. There was a connection that existed that only came from them really being this close. He felt her heavy breath on his neck, the brushing near driving him mad. Nothing explained why they'd stopped, slowed to the point of simply staring. But now, he needed her. He needed to show her that it was real. She was real; with him now. And he needed her. Theresa's body was shaking. He had to be real. Never had one of her dreams felt this alive. He was real with her now. And she needed him. Suddenly Ethan was reassured in his heart. Clasping against her hands again, he lowered closer to her, his chest scraping along her breasts. When he moved, Theresa could feel the hard tip touching her just at the base of her core. Quickly, before Theresa's nerves had time to respond to the intimate touch, he entered her.

He moved forward once more and Theresa felt her walls parting for his hard strength. It had been so long since she'd felt him inside of her, completely lost in her, their bodies fitting together as one. At the lower base of her opening, she felt the slight tug as his size stretched her. It was almost as if their bodies had frozen, completely shut down in the fury of feelings and the repressed shaking took hold as moans fell from their lips.

The low guttural sounds at the backs of their throats filled the room around them. Theresa's body clutched him, welcoming the coming sensations. Ethan stayed still, ignoring his instinct to thrust, pushing his body to remain in the aching moment. Theresa's muscles instinctively pulsated harder around him, begging him for more. The moans escaping from his mouth told her that he wouldn't be able to take much more and her own body couldn't take the torture. He started shaking as his nerves began forcing him to move against his own will. He wanted to make the moment last. He didn't want to leave her or ever again know the feeling of not being within her.

Theresa's hips bucked upwards and begged him to move. She was going crazy with him being so close and yet not giving her what she needed. Ethan kissed her ravenously, his tongue deep in her mouth, plundering. She felt him shift his hips again, his weight settling more heavily on her. After a brief hesitation, he thrust forward powerfully. Theresa cried out softly, the sound captured his mouth. He drove forward, stretching her, impaling her deeply until he was seated to the hilt. She struggled for breath, struggled to comprehend the feel of him, hard and hot and strong, embedded deep with in her, filling her more completely than she imagined possible. The feeling of her around him couldn't come to Ethan's clouded mind. He couldn't think, he couldn't remember, he could only feel. Theresa pulled his neck down to her and kissed him deeply. Ethan gave in to the kiss, responding and not ceasing his rhythmic movements within her. An open moan broke the kiss as Theresa felt the waves and waves of fire consume her. She arched her back closer and tilted her chin up in the fury of sensations. Her shoulders pushed against the mattress below her and strained to take him deeper, wanting him more intensely, satisfied only when he thrust harder and faster within her. She moaned loudly, sinking her nails into his back as their bodies melted together in fiery need.

With quicker movements, Theresa pressed harder against Ethan and he felt her body shudder and convulse around him. Her peak was coming and nothing filled her mind but Ethan getting her there. She needed it, she needed him and she instinctively tried to pull him in deeper. He nuzzled her neck as she gasped aloud and let a strong scream sound. The rippling waves of fire pulsed through her and her body imploded as she reached a burning, mind-numbing climax.

Ethan sucked in a loud breath when he felt her shuddering orgasm current around him. Driven by a need he'd never felt before, he pulled her closer and thrust deeper and faster than he ever had. With each movement he made, Theresa's throat let loose a hard breath. Theresa watched his intently, wishing to see him in the next instant when pleasure and pain swirled into an uncontainable amount of pressure. A loud grunt filled her ears when his eyes shot open to stare into hers. His thrusts didn't cease as they held the intense gaze and suddenly, the world froze. Ethan fell into the scorching pits of desire in that instant. A loud scream came as he released himself into Theresa's warm body. He collapsed on top of her chest and laid there listening to the beating of her heart for several minutes.

Their breathing was shallow, their bodies hot and damp from sweat, they didn't move. Ethan hadn't left her body yet and the feeling of her around was beginning to ignite the flames once again. More spent and exhausted than either of them had been in years, they turned to each other in a kiss. The kiss was hungry, both of them through with fighting to control their desires. Theresa clung to him tightly, flagrantly inviting him to take, to seize, to claim everything that she was. With their hearts picking up rapid pace again, they felt as if they'd been waiting for that moment their entire life. Quickly aroused in the coming seconds, they wrapped their arms around each other, and again and again, they made relentless love in the heat of the night.

The early dawn of the morning gave the world a gray glow and filled the room with light shadows as the birth of a new day came forth with the rising of a new sun. Ethan watched as the streaks of orange split the sky with brilliance. The image he saw in the sky was a mirrored reflection of what he felt. Beauty surrounded him and he couldn't feel more complete. Slowly, the sky turned from the dark blue to the faintest orange in the distant horizon and suddenly, all was right.

All was perfect.

Ethan looked to his side to find the creature sleeping on the pillow next to him. She was perfect, he thought. Each breath that entered her chest was an innocent action that made his body burn with love. Almost as if feeling his eyes on her, Theresa opened her eyes to find him staring at her. His deeply expressive eyes said so much, and yet, she got no message. They were silent for a long time, caught in their stare, when finally Ethan broke the spell. Deftly, he pushed a delicate strand of black hair behind her ear. The curve of her jaw amazed him as he dragged his fingertips across her face. Even in the simplest and most natural ways, she captivated him. His touch lingered on her cheek after he brushed the hair away, and the warmth was spreading through her body quickly.

"I never thought I could feel this alive again," he whispered quickly.

Theresa heard his words and her own voice caught in her throat. She felt as if she'd been dead for her entire life and now she was free to breathe, free to live. The simple fact that she was with this man, that she was so close to him, scared her. She knew it was real, but she wouldn't accept doubt now.

Before he had a chance to continue speaking, Theresa pressed her fingers to his lips. "Shhh…," she urged. His words were the only distraction from the feeling swirling inside. This moment of purity and life would last, she decided. "Make love to me." Theresa closed her mouth over his and fought their tongues together.

As the light of the new day filtered into the room through the blinds, everything was right. Her arm laid across his chest in an attempt to make sure he never left; his arms wrapped securely around her body in a protective manner. Slowly disquieting his own pulling thoughts, he took in the scent of her hair and he couldn't imagine that he'd lived for so long without waking up to that smell, the texture of her skin, the sound of her breathing, her body pressed against his… Now that he had it all, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to live without it again.

Taking in the soothing calamity of her presence, Ethan gently put his chin on her head and sighed to himself. No thoughts filled his brain but one: Perfection. Nothing could ruin the gentle freedom his heart felt in that moment. He'd dreamed of her every night, thought of her all day, longed for her every single day since they'd been apart. Millions of thoughts coursed through him at once, and every one came to a halt.

Fate.

She was right. She had to have been. Theresa based her life on Fate and she always said that Fate had a plan in store for her that no one could damage. This was it. Ethan wasn't sure if he wanted to believe in Fate. He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to put his faith in something like Fate. But he couldn't deny his surroundings anymore than he could ignore them. This was real. She was real.

Each breath she took in he timed with his own and he synchronized their breathing and just felt. He was alive for the first time in a long time. With a quick brush to the side, Ethan looked around and surveyed everything he saw as if he were in some kind of dream world. Then, almost as if grabbed with a deadly virus, chocking the newfound life out of him, he saw it. The small and simple object had him drowning. He was frozen in the irony of the moment, struck with the sharpest guilt he'd ever felt in his life. She stared at him with the same sad smile he'd looked at each day, their hands out of view, but something more ate at his heart with rapture.

Fox.

A picture Ethan decided to keep to remind himself of what he'd caused: the torment of three people who all ached for the same thing. All Ethan could do was stare at Fox and wonder why he all of a sudden felt like a caged bear, like he was being watched through a magical screen with scrutinizing eyes. Ethan's vision kept shifting from his own eyes to Fox's eyes to Theresa's eyes, and back again. All of a sudden, the freedom he'd felt so vibrantly only moments ago was fleeting and waning to almost choking him in an invisible cage, in a prison he couldn't seem to escape no matter how hard he tried. It was only when he felt her naked body move against him that he restored his focus to the miracle in his arms.

The strands straying from their place were dispersed over his chest as she lifted her head to look at him with a sleepy grin. The look in her eyes was the same unchanging from the brilliant and deep gaze he'd gladly get lost in everyday. Why was she looking at him like that? Why was she in his arms? Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan stole a glance at the picture he'd touched many times as he imagined he could feel her. She approached closer and he couldn't deny her. He couldn't deny himself. Pushing the sudden guilt and doubt from his mind, he quickly kissed her and tried to put every emotion he could into it. She smiled up at him when they finally pulled apart. He would be lost. In one stare, one laugh, one smile, she had him. Without a fight, he was hers.

His hands slowly graced along her arms and he felt entranced against the silky skin once more. He kissed her and let his heart sink into oblivion even for a split second. Without a word, without a sound, after their mouths were red and breathless and their bodies once again aroused, Ethan tore himself away before he could no longer fight it. Gently moving her aside, he sat up with her eyes never leaving him. Quickly putting on a pair of discarded briefs from the night before, Ethan stood from the bed and froze. He took a long look at the picture on his nightstand and simply stared at it. _Fate was amazing_, he thought. One minute he couldn't thank it enough and the next he was cursing it for his rotten luck.

Theresa suddenly noticed him staring and followed his gaze with her own until she met the photo. She remembered that day and how much it killed her to say goodbye to Ethan. She remembered how he took her hand as the picture was taken and she wished that the dreadful sorrow now emerging would retreat to its newly suppressed depths. As she stared at the picture, the very emotion from that day flooded her senses. His powerful kiss ached against her lips and his touch quivered on her skin. She could almost feel the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes as she thought back to the way she turned to him and silently begged his forgiveness when she walked in from the patio.

Finally ripping his vision away from the picture, Ethan walked across the bedroom to retrieve his shirt from the floor. He picked it up and set it on the corner of the bed without a word. Theresa all of a sudden felt his change in demeanor and it was scaring her. She knew what he must have felt when he looked at the picture, but she hoped he would be able to push it away, thrive in the moment and feelings they'd experienced over the past few hours. Ethan walked slow, his diaphragm moved in deep breaths as he sucked in gulps of oxygen trying to maintain himself. Theresa bit her bottom lip in anticipation as she waited for him to say something to reassure her. He didn't. Instead, he picked up his pants from the floor and slipped them up his legs.

"What is this? What are you doing?" Theresa tried to hide the sound of her welling tears but it was no use. Her voice cut through him like a hot blade but he could deny it no longer.

How could he turn to face her? He couldn't. The thought of her pleading eyes staring at him full of hope only to make her hurt, it killed him. The pain he imagined at seeing the torture in her eyes was too much to bear.

"Ethan?" Her voice was almost begging him to turn to her now.

The pain speared through his heart beyond his control. He hated that he constantly had the ability to hurt her so much. It was his curse. All he wanted to do was to take her away and never hurt her again. He didn't want her to cry anymore. He didn't want her to long anymore. He didn't want her to wish anymore. He wanted to give her everything; he _needed _to give her everything.

"Ethan?" she said again.

Pushing against his own fears, he finally turned to her. He didn't realize it but pools of tears had already accumulated in his eyes and clouded his vision. He knew what he had to do, he knew what he had to say, but still, nothing would escape his lips. Everything around him was quiet and the silence was agonizing. He wished there was a way to escape the coming pressure but he truly was a caged bear. The first tears silently fell from her eyes at his inability to speak and he couldn't watch. Blinking away, Ethan turned his head down in an attempt to hide the reality.

"What's wrong?" she was louder now and her tone was more tried.

"I love you, Theresa. I do. More than anything." The fear rose from her heart and caught in her throat. She knew what he was going to say before he did and she wished with all her might that she could stop him from speaking and hide the words from the world before they were spoken. But she couldn't stop the inevitable and Ethan hated how much he had to hurt her. "But we can't do this. You're married… I never should have brought you here."

She stared at him for a long minute and wished that she could turn back time and never have to hear what he'd just said. Theresa lifted herself from the bed and held the sheet to her chest. "Wait, Ethan…" As soon as she opened her mouth, she heard the cracking hesitation in her voice before she could control it. She took a step towards him and the motion pierced his heart. He knew she was trying, he knew it was killing her to do this now. "Don't—don't do this."

He could take the painful cry in her voice no longer. "No, Theresa! Look!" Ethan grabbed Theresa's left hand and showed her the ring she wore everyday. "Right there is proof. You married Fox and this isn't right."

She was sucking in air forcefully as she tried to control her emotions within. She blinked and heavy tears silently fell from her eyes and quickly fell to her neck. His hand still holding hers up, she took it and moved closer still. "But I love you, Ethan..." Her voice was begging, pleading, desperate, desolate, worried, and broken.

Ethan stared at the diamond ring that should have been his for a long time. He heard what she said, he knew what it meant, but still, he couldn't move. He was frozen with the ring haunting him like an incorrigible ghost. Finally having the courage to shift his gaze to her eyes, to the eyes that told him everything of the world, he cursed himself when he saw the pain he'd inflicted yet again. Ethan swore that he'd never again hurt her, he swore that he could never hurt her again for it would be his own destruction; and so it was.

With nothing more than his own raw emotion causing him to act, Ethan took her lips with his. He kissed her and pulled her body against his roughly. Their tongues and their mouths were hot against the other, their hands pulled, their bodies pressed, their chests heaved, and the magic was reborn. Theresa felt it though; she knew what it meant. The pounding of his heart told her so. As her heart spun in her chest when she kissed him, she knew what his heart was trying to tell her. He was saying it silently, covering it up in the best way he knew how.

Despite their connected lips, tears fell from both their eyes and mixed between them. His heart pulsed with silent words, hers begged for more time; but it had to be. Ethan told her everything he needed, he wanted her to know the pain that it was causing him—and she felt it in his kiss, she felt it in the desperate way he held her body to his. They were both out of oxygen, but the moment gave them life. They couldn't pull away from each other now. If this was to be the last, it would be for as long as possible. But Ethan knew that with each passing minute, he was making it harder for both of them.

Slowly taking his lips from hers, he held her face close to his with both his hands and spoke softly. "I'll never forget. Never forget…"

This time the tears he was desperately trying not to shed fell onto her already-wet cheeks. He pulled her back against his lips and before he ripped away from her, he kissed her deeply before he lost the strength. With a final beat that held within in it everything he needed to say, with the final words of goodbye, he pulled away from her and let the sounds of agony break from her lips. The anguish consumed him and the fear of his own destruction made him flee. He couldn't be in the same room with the only woman he couldn't imagine hurting, with the only woman he couldn't stop hurting.

After Ethan pulled away from her, Theresa felt the world fall from beneath her and she fell back onto the bed. Her diaphragm was in spasm, choking her with rapid breaths as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. The last few moments passed through her brain. She felt Ethan's unspoken words in her soul and then she felt him rip away. It killed her. She was dead now. She couldn't think, she couldn't feel, but yet, as numb as she was, the agonizing reality swirled around her and left her defeated. Her cheeks were wet from falling tears, but she couldn't feel them. The devastating shock left her speechless, motionless, without animation, empty. Images of what she'd experienced with Ethan over the hours past crossed through her thoughts and gave her a sickening fluttering in the pit of her chest, almost as if she'd just imagined the entire thing.

The calm outside filled her ears with a different sound. The rain had stopped, the winds had ceased, and the clouds had begun their separation into the recesses of a sunny sky. But just as nature's storm had quieted, the storm within her had just begun. With a torrent like a tornado ripping through her veins, pain falling like pounding hail, she felt the world around begin to crumble.

Shock encompassing her senses, the blur around her became extremely clear in the uncertainty. She couldn't think despite the sudden quiet. That was when she realized it. The gentle tapping that she'd heard the night before, the only other sound that she could make out against their moans, was gone.

She quivered and shook. She cried and sobbed. She was broken; torn and broken. With Ethan's kiss still burning her lips, Theresa sat confined with violent tears falling from her eyes.

The new sun had fully risen and the bright sky filled her with a devastating dread to face the beautiful day. She would never see sunshine again. The storm was over, the sun was out, and yet, she felt as if there was nothing but darkness to fall into.


	8. Never Forget

**_Chapter 7: _Never Forget**

Ethan paced nervous and confused with his conflicting thoughts. He turned his eyes to the wall and thought of her fingers. He eyed the couch and remembered her scent. The carpet spoke to him of her eyes and the ceiling flashed him memories of her hair. He couldn't stand to be in his bedroom because of the vivid reminders that endlessly coursed around him. There was little that didn't make him think of her. No. There was nothing that didn't make his heart ache and his mind pound as her memory filled his brain. Even stepping out into the fresh air of the veranda made his heart twist with painful and regretful anger.

Ethan faintly heard the clanking of the ice against the glass in his hand as he dropped it low to his waist. He studied the caramel color of the liquid and wondered what it would be to drown suddenly. He imagined the air getting sucked out of his lungs, the dreadful panic spreading over his limbs and then his mind closing before he saw black and then nothing ever again. He sometimes thought what it would be like to rewind the clock as if nothing had ever happened in his life; as if he had never set himself up to cause the pain he lived in each day.

But there was Theresa.

All the pain he felt, he knew he caused. The tears she cried were because of him. Ethan took another drink and let his reality sink around him. The plush couch against his back might as well have been a hard board for he could feel nothing anymore. He hadn't felt in days, he hadn't allowed himself to feel since the day she touched him last; since the day she loved him, the day she kissed him, the day he allowed them to have everything they could wish for. But that was all gone now.

Tilting the glass up to his lips, Ethan took a burning drink of the scotch and let it slowly warm his body. It seemed as if nothing could dull the pain anymore. The first night alone without her, he drowned himself in the many colors of pouring liquors that made his head pound with such vehemence that he wasn't sure what to do. The next morning he woke up twisted on his side half laying on the floor and half on the couch in the living room. The glass had somehow managed to make it to the bar before he passed out and that was all he could remember before the dreadful pain of the hangover consumed him. It only added to the pain he wanted to forget. The physical pain intensified the emotional wreak he was sure to become. Even now, as he finished the alcoholic contents of his glass, he continued drinking and knew that he'd soon pour himself another in a weak attempt to forget. He knew it didn't work. The memories became more real for him in the moments where he could barely distinguish his kitchen sink from a hair dryer. While he couldn't remember in the morning, he always awoke with dried tears on his face and he was sure that his intoxication caused the emotion to fall freely and he wallowed and cried in the loneliness of his dark apartment.

He was a destroyed man and he knew it. Whose fault was it, he often wondered. He would usually blame himself before going in the circle of blaming Theresa and then making his round to Fox before the cycle continued once more. He would think back to the day of the wedding and he remembered his desperate plea to Theresa to follow her heart and break off her engagement. In those moments of the painful memories, he would curse her and cry angry tears that were followed by punching at the wall before he yelled at himself. He begged her to turn away from Fox and be true to herself that day. He gave himself completely to her, kissing her with everything he could imagine, and still, she turned away and walked down the aisle. Her wedding was his hell.

One more drink before tears approached.

There were the nights when Ethan would lay awake and see the outline of Fox's face in the moonlight as he looked at the picture on his nightstand. Sometimes he couldn't distinguish from the burning desire to kill his brother or confess everything he thought of each and everyday, all day long. Fox, the innocent one in the entire plot, was the one that was caused the most pain because of his ignorance. If he ever knew the pain that the three of them withstood because of his unknowing, it would surely kill him.

Then there was Ethan himself. While in the midst of pure intoxication, Ethan would occasionally begin speaking to himself in the third person in the empty silence of his apartment. Sometimes he thought he was going mad. He would catch himself yelling at Ethan as if he were someone else. But then there were the days when Ethan slept on the couch because he couldn't face his bedroom where the walls screeched of memories—of her.

So consumed in his own thoughts, Ethan had forgotten that he'd put the radio on. At first, all he wanted to do was drown out the world around him in the subtle clanking of his ice as he emptied the glass against his mouth.

The last beats of a song followed by the soothing voice of the host fell on his ears. "Good evening, folks of Harmony," Ethan heard against his swallow. "This is Mike Summers here at WHMY, 96.9 FM." His voice was laced with the sweetness of caramel and Ethan immediately thought to himself of how shallow it seemed. "The setting sun outside is beautiful and it just makes you think of lost loves, doesn't it? For all the Harmonyites out there that know the bittersweet pain of lost loves, this is for you."

Ethan listened carefully as the slow music flooded his senses. At first he was going to turn it off with his last desire to be reminded of a lost love, but he couldn't find the energy. The music that began in the background started with a low strumming of guitar strings. The rhythm was gentle and soft as a silky croon emerged from the speakers.

_It's daybreak_

_And you are asleep_

_I can hear you breathe now_

_Your breath is deep_

Ethan took in a deep inhalation and let the oxygen flood over his body smoothly. The lyrics playing in the background somehow began filtering into his senses and he sat on the edge of the couch too lazy to cross the room to refill his glass.

_But before I go,_

_I look at you one last time_

_I can hear a heartbeat_

_Is it yours or is it mine?_

Suddenly the world around Ethan froze. The words he heard coming from the speakers filled his brain with such vivid images that he almost threw his empty glass shattering into the wall. He remembered the last moments with Theresa as he stared deep into her eyes and begged a sorrowful goodbye.

_I look at your lips_

_I know how soft they can be_

_Did they know what they wanted_

_The times they kissed me?_

He'd kissed her. He felt her lips against his own one last time before he barely had the strength to stand by himself. Ripping away from her in that next moment sent the crushing frenzy through his body and he could barely maintain his focus on reality. It had all become a swirl between a memory and what was really happening around him.

_And your hands_

_That I held in mine_

_Now they're reposing on the pillow_

_Will they ever miss me some time?_

Waking up to her face that morning was everything good and perfect in his world. He remembered what it was like to hear her breathe against him in the waking moments of consciousness. Suddenly he could feel her hands on his chest, his back, and his arms as she goaded him on, pressing him closer to her body and begging him for more. The ecstasy that splayed across her face in those moments haunted him and reminded him of what paradise really was.

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_Now that is all I can do_

_But I'll remember_

Did he have a choice? He wasn't sure. He sometimes wished that he'd wake up and never know the pain of what it was to know her and not be with her. He wanted to vanish her from his memory and erase her from his heart. Ethan hated knowing that she was out there and all he could do was crawl up on his couch and dream of what was. Memories plagued him like a dreadful disease. All he wanted to do was let go of her and be able to live life as a man that didn't know the pain that he lived with each day. But he couldn't. He was endlessly stuck with the agony and then there were the times that it made him smile. There were the few moments in between his grief that he would remember the glistening tears in her eyes as he thrust into her and how she'd begged him for another release, pulling his body tighter against her and forcing her body to continue beyond the pain that began to mount in the lines of crossing her pleasure.

_Your eyes_

_That always make me shiver_

_Now they are closed_

_They can sometimes twitch a little_

Dark chocolate. Light chocolate. The yellow and honey-colored brown haunted him everywhere he looked. Theresa's eyes were the brightest he'd seen, the deepest he'd known. They were the only eyes he'd ever want to lose himself in for the remaining days of his life. She'd closed her eyes as torrents coursed through her body as he made her orgasms peak and he remembered that there couldn't be another gift more precious than sharing the most erotic and pleasurable moments with her.

_And your body_

_I could hold for an hour_

_It sent me to heaven_

_With its heat and power_

Her hands were small against him, but still, she used her touch and expertly drove him within the limits of his sanity. Squeezing and pulling, rubbing and stroking him until he was begging for mercy, Theresa held him and guided him into her many times and it was then that he'd felt his true release. He was imprisoned in the strange life he'd lived without her and the moment that he joined their bodies as one, he was let go. She had clenched and shuddered around him in her series of climaxes and his body was shaking with afore effects of what was coming. He could feel it and suddenly, his body was engulfed in an invisible flame that only she could light.

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_That is all that I can do_

Tears followed next. The words held so much meaning for him and he couldn't help it anymore. Ethan felt the twitch in his heart as he thought about her. She was forever cursed to be in his heart and no matter what he did, he couldn't escape her memory. He would remember forever. No matter what happened, he would always carry with him the memory of her touching him, holding him, making love to him, kissing him, whispering to him, moaning his name, whimpering in anticipation, shaking in pleasure, screaming in ecstasy, and loving him in the way that only she could.

_But I'll remember_

He would remember forever.

_I'll Remember You - Sophie Zelmani  
_

* * *

With a soft exhale, he opened his eyes and slowly adjusted to the grayness of the morning twilight. Using his thumb and pointer finger, Fox pinched his eyes closed and rubbed the sleep from beneath his lashes. He lay on his back, the image of a white ceiling staring at him silently. Blinking, he could feel the heaviness of his exhaustion against his brow and forcing himself awake, he turned and opened his eyes to see something else. She laid there just as she always had and he realized that she'd recently gotten in the habit of sleeping on her stomach, elbows inward, almost as if closing herself off and rarely did she move against him anymore.

As he watched her sleeping there, the thought finally struck him: They hadn't made love in weeks. There were times when he'd returned from work and was filled with the carnal need of her body. She would walk through the door after being driven home by Harold and all he wanted to do was attack her. But as usual, just as quickly as those thoughts entered his brain, so did the anguished betrayal.

He hadn't said anything the next morning as he sipped his coffee in the leisure of the kitchen. The night before began for him with a brandy that he rarely chose to indulge in. The liquor immediately went to his head and glass after glass, his world became darker, softer, dimmer, stranger, and clearer. All he could think of was of how alone he suddenly felt. Of course he had no one to blame but himself. But still, there was the nagging sense of treachery deep within his heart. He had set the trap, he'd led the bear to the honey, but ultimately, as always, it was up to the bear whether or not to sticky its paws.

He knew what had to have happened. He wasn't stupid and he was far from naïve when it came to the inner workings of Theresa's heart. It was one of the longest nights of his life as he waited patiently in the parlor for either the door to open or the phone to ring. Hours went by until finally, Whitney decided to dial the Crane home. Fox eagerly picked up the phone and hoped it would be the person he needed to hear.

It wasn't.

Whitney called Fox and told him that Theresa was going to spend the night at her house. When Fox had asked to speak to his wife, Whitney told him that she was taking a shower and she would have her call first thing in the morning. Could he believe her? One thing was for sure, though: The call never came.

The following morning, Theresa tiptoed into the house and was careful to edge the door back into its place to not make any reverberating noise in the large house. But there was something that she didn't know: Fox had alerted security to inform him when she got home. The moment she stepped onto the Italian marble and tried to make her way to the stairs across the foyer, Fox stepped out from the darkness of the hallway that led to the kitchen. He leaned against the wall and watched as she took the first step before turning to look around her once again. It was then that she saw him there, startled in his sudden appearance in front of her.

Fox said nothing to her then and allowed her the opportunity to lie to him. He wanted to hear her own variable fall from her lips. Somehow agreeing with Whitney's story, Theresa told him she'd spent the night with her best friend and almost forgot that she had to go to work the next day. Fox stood there and nodded his head in unconscious concurrence before he watched as she hesitantly took the rest of the steps leading upstairs. As she climbed, he yelled in his heart. He knew she was lying to him and he wasn't sure why he couldn't call her on it. It was one thing to lie to protect him, but to lie and do nothing to cover it up was different. She'd entered with her hair completely disheveled, her clothes were worn and wrinkled as if they'd been thrown into a pile, her face had light smears of makeup and she carried with her a certain slouch that he'd only noticed when something was severely bothering her.

Neither mentioned the night she'd gone missing and never had Fox asked Whitney to confirm Theresa's whereabouts. He knew he didn't believe it deep inside and there was something more: Theresa. She had begun acting strangely distant towards him and it was if they were complete strangers living in the same home. They only spoke in the morning when they saw each other before leaving for work, and then at night when they ate dinner. Afterwards, Theresa would shut herself up in her office and claim to be working busily on the new line. Fox wasn't sure, but he'd bet that if he were to check the records at Crane, he would find that she didn't have a new line due out for at least a few months. _What was she doing in there, _he thought.

Since the meeting he'd set up between Theresa and Ethan two weeks ago, he hadn't gotten much sleep. He was too consumed with worry to sleep. His work was suffering, and he couldn't be sure, but he knew his marriage was suffering. He couldn't help but blame himself all of a sudden. It was his fault, wasn't it? Now, Fox laid on his pillow and stared at the woman that had both released him from pain and yet caused it all at the same time. She slept peacefully next to him and yet, he felt so far away from her.

_What had happened that day? _

Shifting his neck, Fox rotated his head and stared at the bright blue lights of his alarm clock. 6:06 in the morning. Even though he was wide awake, he suddenly felt the drowsiness wash over him. It was too early in the morning to be fully conscious and to have tormenting memories going through his brain. As he watched the bars of the six fade away into a seven, Fox turned his eyes back up to the ceiling.

Today was the day.

Exhaling sharply once more, Fox looked back over to his wife and couldn't help but think just how beautiful she looked lying next to him. He could think of nothing else but wanting to spend the rest of his life with her at his side. But who was he kidding? There were moments like these when the clarity of his world emerged from the blur and he knew that it was an impossible dream.

It was 6:09 when Fox looked back over to the digital clock on his nightstand and he waited until the minute changed again. So little time and so much depth. But today was it, he thought. It was a day that he'd been looking forward to for weeks, a day that he wanted her to remember and hopefully, be the new beginning that they'd always needed. But now, after what had happened… Or at least, what he thought had happened, it couldn't possibly be the way he'd hoped. Without allowing himself to destroy the hopes he'd built up for the day in the previous weeks, Fox stayed on his back and looked up and with another long breath, he closed his eyes and let the dream come over him, reminding him of the beginning of the never-ending end…

* * *

_"Well, I have to admit that I've never seen someone rearrange their sandwich before they eat it," Fox laughed. Theresa walked at his side with a light stride, his hand in hers, and she smiled when he spoke._

_"It's just something I've always done," she confessed._

_Fox nodded in comprehension and the two continued their pleasantly silent walk on the Harmony wharf. Fox's thumb rested on her pointer knuckle and he rubbed a small circle unconsciously before he almost halted his walk in thought. "Why?"_

_Theresa looked up at him and wondered what had him so curious. "I don't know. I guess I like my sandwiches to look nice and neat before I eat them." _

_Fox laughed to himself. It was one of the strangest things he'd ever seen when he watched as she lifted the top piece of bread and intricately position the lettuce so that it was equally spread over the bread, unfolding the turkey slices evenly, and then finally arranging the few pieces of bacon so that the ends wouldn't stick out past the boundaries of the bread. _

_They walked along the wharf some more, the silence between them pleasant and simple. The black cover of night flooded the skies of Harmony and the couple simply stared up at the stars. Theresa—the dreamer that she was—looked up and as soon as she noticed a blink of light, she closed her eyes and sent a heartfelt wish up to the superior beings above her. Fox noticed as she briefly closed her eyes and slowed her pace next to him. He wondered what it was that she wished for. _Who was the wish for? What did she want most in the world?

_Theresa opened her eyes again to find Fox staring right at her, a suave smile playing on his lips. His height was something she couldn't get used to, and every time she looked into his eyes, she realized that she had to tilt her eyes up further than she normally would; she had no idea that Fox loved it when she did that. _

"_What?" she asked innocently._

_Fox played coy and said nothing. Instead, he looked to the side to avoid her curious glance, and the next thing he knew, he turned back to her and kissed her lips softly. They both immediately clung to each other as their mouths touched, the feelings bolting through their veins. Theresa pulled at the tops of his arms and drew him close as their kiss continued. Suddenly short of breath, they broke apart and Fox held her face in his hands. _

_"Theresa…," he said huskily. _

_Her mind flashed in that instant._

_It was just like _he_ used to say her name: deep, low, strong, passionate. _

_Suddenly she felt like she was falling; the world beneath her falling away before she could stand. It hurt that he continued to invade her thoughts… and her heart. She looked up and saw Fox staring down at her, and more than anything, she knew deep in her heart that she wanted to see _him. _Then the war continued. She was used to it, but every time, it felt as if a many-times-scarred wound was once again opened; no matter what, it would never be truly healed. She had to admit that, yes, she did like Fox. He was good and kind to her, he accepted her, and put her atop an ivory pedestal. She enjoyed being with him, she liked kissing him, and the brazen desires of the flesh didn't go unsatisfied in his bed. But there was always the voice in the back of her mind that yelled at her. _

You're using him..., _it would say. _

_She would ignore the voice most of the time, and when she could summon the courage to listen to it, she would silently talk herself around it. Even if she could convince herself that she wasn't using him, she couldn't ignore how her eyes would cloud over and for the briefest of instants, she would see someone else looking down at her: someone that wasn't Fox. _

_The fog lifted from around her quickly, and Theresa forced her mind back to where she was standing in front of Fox. His brown eyes stared down into hers and what she saw in them was something so deep and tender. She knew the words before he spoke them. _

"_I love you," he said softly._

_Reaching up and toying with the hair as the base of his neck, Theresa smiled at him. "I love you, too." They were only words, she knew, but still, every time she could summon the courage to say them, the disgust with herself lingered on her tongue. She didn't want to deceive him, but at the same time, she didn't want to hurt him. She knew she loved him; that was obvious. He was such a good friend to her and he genuinely cared for her. How much she loved him, however, was a different story. _

_Fox's thumb traced across her cheek slowly, back and forth, stroking the skin under her eye. "You're amazing, you know that?" Theresa smiled against his mouth. "And I love you," he sighed. "I love you so much, Theresa." _

_Closing her eyes she replied, "I love you, too." The words were exactly what he needed to hear and they warmed his heart. She loved him. She was perfect. There wasn't a day that passed that Fox wasn't thankful for such an amazing woman. Her smile, her touch, her kiss… He never thought that a relationship begun for friendship and comfort would turn out to change his life and become the greatest love he'd ever know. _

_She loved him._

_It was perfect. The stars, the water, the wharf, the night, her... If he hadn't believed in a higher being before, he did now. Everything was pointing him in that direction and he couldn't deny it. _

"_Do you love me, Theresa?" he asked suddenly. _

_Theresa opened her eyes and stared quickly. Her eyes shifted across his features in rapid question. "Yes," she said desperately._

_Fox's hands left her face and fell to her hands, wrapping his fingers around hers. "Theresa," he began, his grip lightly squeezing. Suddenly, Theresa began panicking. He seemed nervous. His question had caught her off guard and she inwardly wondered if he suspected her real feelings: her lingering love for someone else. "You're my best friend," he continued. "You're beautiful and kind and loving… You've accepted me and have made me feel loved. You make me feel whole, Theresa… You are my other half." Then he paused and Theresa could almost hear the heartbreaking words. He knew. He must have known and now, he was going to leave her. It would be over and now and she could think of nothing to prepare herself. "But there's one more thing I want you to be," he said. _

Here it comes_, she thought. Fox let go of her hands and took a step back from her. She was right. He was breaking up with her. Fox stuck his hand in his pocket and took another step back. Theresa could feel the tears on her cheeks already. The fear in her throat rose and she tried to reach out to him when he lowered in front of her. He pulled out his hand from his pocket and he produced a small black box. The tears stopped in shock as Theresa realized that he was kneeling. Her breath caught in her throat at the image before her. _What is he doing? _she asked herself. When he grabbed her hand and opened the small black box, Theresa's question was answered. _

"_Theresa," he began. "I love you. I mean it." He searched her eyes to help her understand how serious he was. "I want you to be my wife, Theresa." Then her heart stopped. _

_She wasn't sure how long it was that she froze; A minute? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? All she knew was that when her subconscious faded into reality, Fox was still kneeling in front of her and the small box was staring with an intense gaze. _

"_Theresa…," he called her attention. _

_Suddenly, Theresa felt like she was being sucked into a tunnel of darkness. All she could focus on was the glinting stone in the bed of black velvet. The symbolism that Fox held in his hand at that moment was extremely pivotal. _

Was it really happening?

"_I know this isn't a fancy restaurant, and I know that there's not champagne and roses, Theresa, but, I couldn't take it anymore. I've been carrying this ring around for over a week and… it just felt right." _

"_I—," she finally managed. _

_It was as if the twinkling facets of the large diamond shaded before her eyes and began sending her into a trance. She held her eyes closed in a heavy blink before opening them again. In that long instant, her mind whirled at the speed of light with memories. It had only been about three months since her life had changed—only three months since she had finally made herself give up on the only thing she could never envision living without: Him. _

_Her life had been a tortured one where he was concerned. He held such a big piece of her heart that she didn't have enough for herself. It had begun with a dream that terrified her and covered her in sweat the next morning. For hours, for days, she couldn't get the images out of her brain and it was then that she realized that she couldn't continue her life living the way she had. Pining after a married man with only his reassurance that he would eventually follow his heart was just not enough. _

_The dream was vivid and sharp, clear and nightmarish. She could remember looking down and seeing the swell of her belly and holding it tenderly. All she wanted to do was run into Ethan's arms and tell him the news; she was sure that he would be just as excited as she was. She cradled her stomach in her arms, her mind filling with the warm thoughts of the family she'd always wanted. The cargo she possessed filled her with such love and pride and she suddenly couldn't imagine what it would be like to live without it. She was going to have it all: Ethan, her, and their child would live happily ever after. As she thanked god for the precious gift and as she looked up, she saw him. Ethan was standing in a dark room with Gwen at his side. She called to him but he didn't look at her. The light behind her seemed to shrink and only Ethan and Gwen were illuminated. She called his name with a smile. She was so happy in that moment and she continued to call for him. "Ethan," she'd said. "Ethan, I'm pregnant!" Still, he didn't turn to look at her. He stared at Gwen and didn't lift his gaze from her. "Ethan," Theresa called again. She kept calling his name in hopes that he would turn to her, but he didn't. Instead, every time she said his name, it was as if the volume tuner was being turned down a notch. By the sixth time she said his name, she could barely hear herself. As she kept calling, she was only able to move her mouth and no sound could escape her vocal cords. She couldn't speak and he couldn't hear her. He still stared at Gwen in the dark and Theresa could only watch unmoved across the room. The longer she called for him, the more intense desperation took hold. Soon, she was crying and Ethan remained unmoved with his wife. _

_That was when she woke from the dream. Theresa had been crying in her sleep and her face was wet with tears when she opened her eyes. The shock and fear left her shaking and quivering, afraid and frozen. Theresa jolted upright in her bed and she quickly looked to her side, looking for him. He'd left in the middle of the night; he'd left her alone. The dream had taken on surprising meaning in her heart when she realized he was gone. Sometimes, she understood that he needed to get back to Gwen before she suspected anything, but she couldn't deny the fear that trembled throughout her body. _What if she got pregnant? What if Ethan didn't care? What if he just left her and pretended she didn't exist just like her dream?

_Theresa couldn't take that chance. She loved Ethan, yes, and he loved her, that much she was sure of, but she couldn't be sure that she would survive something like his abandonment. No. She wouldn't survive. She couldn't. Time passed and she didn't move from that spot in her bed. She sat alone, confused, angry, and in all, she couldn't help but cry. Was it hours? Days? Weeks? All she knew was that day, she didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't sleep, and she didn't move. From the time the sun was high in the window until the shadows of night danced across the carpet of her bedroom, the thoughts plundered her brain. With every possibility shattering through her, she finally knew what she had to do. _

_She had no choice. _

_It had been months since she and Ethan had begun their affair. First, it had started with them seeing each other at a store. Theresa pursued meeting for coffee and he didn't deny. She wanted to make him stay, she wanted him to know what he'd given up the day he promised himself to Gwen; he knew. Something had started that day and a few days after, he called her asking to meet her. She went happily and as they parted, a hug that should have been no more than a few seconds slowly lingered until their bodies pulled so close that they were almost fused together. As they finally pulled back from their embrace, the trance that they'd always felt with one another took control. Their lips met first, then their hands, then their breaths mingled, and eventually, their naked bodies were pressed against each other in the spurns of passion. _

_Somehow, they'd begun seeing each other whenever they could. Ethan would sneak out during his lunch hour and Theresa would find excuses to leave her house in the middle of the night on the days Gwen was away on business. Ethan and Theresa never talked about the consequences of their actions and they honestly didn't want to think about them. There was a prominent moment when she asked him what was to become of them. He simply lifted her gaze to him and kissed her. He said he loved her and promised that one day, Gwen would be ready to hear the truth and they would be free. She prayed for that day to come soon… but it didn't. The dream came instead and she knew she had to end it. It had to have been a sign telling her that if the affair continued, her life would end up to be nothing but heartache and pain. _

_Finally able to move, Theresa found the strength to call him that night. Just like always, Ethan gave Gwen an office excuse and drove to see Theresa. When he greeted her with a passionate kiss, he didn't know it would it be the last one. Theresa reluctantly pulled back and walked away from him. Fighting her tears, Theresa told him that it could no longer go on. At first, Ethan said nothing in his own shock. When he realized that she was serious, his eyes shined with fresh tears. He wasn't ready to let her go; he never would be. Guilt ate away at her and she finally turned to him and apologized. _

_But it didn't matter. It still had to end. _

_Ethan couldn't speak. Almost as if choking, his throat constricted and stopped all possible speech. Without a word, Ethan let the first tear fall to his cheek before he went to the door. Compelled to move so as not to crumble into a crying heap on the floor, Theresa followed him out as he began the descent of the stairs. He heard her go to the door behind him and he silently told her that he loved her. That was when she whispered the words that would forever haunt him: _I'll never forget_. He stopped when he heard her speak and from that moment on, he knew that he would always know the language of her heart. In that instant, clear as he would hear the breaking of glass or the cry of pain, he heard the crushing and silent sound of her heart; it shattered right before him and he hated himself for it. _

_Now, all of a sudden, as she remembered saying goodbye to one man, she was being asked to accept another. Fox still knelt before her, a hopeful smile on his lips. She stared at the diamond, a stone no doubt perfect for the Crane fortune. Could she marry Fox? Her heart knew who it wanted; who it belonged to, who it spoke to. But she could never be with Ethan. _

_Fox was a good man, she knew that was true. He was honest and good to her and he had helped her through so much. Even before they took their relationship to the next level of romance, he'd always been her shoulder, her rock. When she was sneaking around behind closed doors with Ethan, Fox was there to hug her on the emotionally-trying days. He never knew of her affair, but he knew that one day a few months ago was the hardest day of her life. When she called, he rushed to her house and before he was up the stairs to her front door, she ran into his arms with tears already wetting her face._

_Now, he wanted to marry her. The question in his eyes pressed deep into her. Theresa hated the thought of breaking the heart of the man that had been so good to her—that loved her. Carefully containing her hesitation, Theresa slowly took the velvet box from his fingers and placed it in the palms of her hands as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever seen. She shifted her eyes from the ring and back to Fox's face. _Could she really do it? _Fox watched her with the pressure of rising anticipation in his chest. He needed his answer and she was torturing him with the silence. _

_Theresa touched the ring with her fingertips and traced the velvet of the black box as if familiarizing herself with it forever. It meant forever. It would be forever. Her life passed and halted all in the longest moment of Fox's life. _

"_Theresa?" Fox asked. He was running out of patience. There was only so much a man could take and Theresa was stretching it paper thin. _

_Then it was time for her to answer. At Fox's voice, Theresa moved her eyes back up to Fox and took one more final look at the diamond. Before she realized she was speaking, she turned the box so it was pointing at Fox. "Okay." She smiled right after she delivered the answer and Fox's moment of agony was over. _Or was it just beginning? _So elated, he kissed her lips and he swore that he would do whatever he needed to make her happy for the rest of her life.  
_

* * *

Taking in the image of Theresa sleeping, Fox stared at her completely consumed. Still, he could remember the elation his heart took on the moment she agreed to his proposal. It was then, when he played back the memory in his mind, that he realized that as happy as he was, there seemed to be a dark film of sadness over her eyes. In the instants it took her to decide and give him an answer, it seemed as if she had traveled somewhere else to find the courage to give him the answer he most desperately wanted.

It had been three years since that day on the wharf and a little over two since they'd begun their life together. Fox knew that looking at his wife and knowing that they'd made it this long should have made him feel such pride and contentment… It didn't. He loved her more than he could ever imagine loving anyone else, but he would never be truly happy because he knew she wasn't. He always wanted to believe that in time, she would finally allow herself to be happy and move on with him.

Fox wasn't a fool when it came to who Theresa held in her heart. Besides that, he'd seen what had happened at the wedding reception. At first, he froze as he watched Ethan and Theresa cling to each other as if they would die without the moment. He watched as if he were a spy sitting high up in a tree. As if connected, as soon as he saw Theresa's first tears, Fox felt his own come to the surface of his eyes as well. Her tears told him how desperately she wanted the moment in front of her, how much she needed it, how much she needed _him._

The moment that he saw the two defined is life. It was as if he split into three pieces, each containing three different ideas. One piece fled into a corner to cry. The heartbreak he felt was so intense, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue life. Another piece wanted to charge between Ethan and Theresa and kill them both. He had flashes of dragging Ethan beneath his car and making Theresa watch and then… There was the final piece, the piece that Fox always reverted to. It was calm and passive.

And frozen.

He couldn't move. As he watched Theresa pull Ethan closer, he realized that she'd never acted that way with him—not even when they made love. _No_, Fox thought. _It wasn't what it looked like._ Fox had momentarily been able to convince himself that what looked like two people kissing each other passionately was in fact something else, something much more innocent. When Ethan and Theresa finally pulled apart, both gasping for breath, he made his move. Fox closed his eyes as that memory flooded his mind. He knew that the moment he let pass was something that he should have acted on. Now, it was too late and he blamed himself. _Tonight is the night_, he told himself. Tonight would let him know where Theresa stood. The only problem was whether or not Fox could leave the choice to Theresa; he wasn't sure if he wanted the choice to be hers.

* * *

When Theresa finally opened her eyes, she awoke to an empty pillow. What she found there instead of Fox was something much smaller, something darker, something that confused her. It was a single red rose. Still groggy and somewhat unable to comprehend the world around her, she blinked several times to focus. Squinting and taking in some much needed oxygen through her nostrils, she raised her arm from under her chest and pulled the flower between her fingers. Clutching it softly, she stared at it in wonder.

Why?

Acting on instinct, Theresa pulled the flower to her nose and took in a breath. It smelled of natural perfume and euphoria. It was a rose but still, Theresa couldn't understand why. Scanning around the room, Theresa looked for any sign of Fox, but there was none. Listening closely, she could tell that he wasn't in the shower and judging by the robe hanging on the end poster of the bed, he was gone already.

Theresa tried to stop the guilt from washing over her in waves as it couldn't help but doing. The flower suddenly reminded her of all the pain that she was consciously and unconsciously putting Fox through. Ever since the night with Ethan, she hadn't been the same towards him and that was obvious. She would come home and after a wordless dinner with her husband, Theresa would close herself off in her study and stare at the wall. Even with the plush chair against her back, she found no comfort in her solace. The only thoughts that seemed capable of consuming her brain were of Ethan. She thought of him with her, and she thought of him without her. While she hated to admit it, thinking about him was just too painful…. And not thinking about him was even worse. She felt as if she needed to keep him alive, at least inside her heart.

And now, after two weeks of basically ignoring her husband and lying, he left her a red rose next to her pillow. Was it a sign? Perhaps an apology for something he thought he'd done to make her seem so distant. That had to have been it. In the two years of marriage, he'd never once left her a rose in the morning, and he wouldn't have left it without a note. Suddenly, the guilt consuming her heart got stronger. She felt vile; she felt downright terrible. To think that Fox blamed himself hurt her deeply. It cut and scraped and burned and sliced into her with a force she never knew she could feel where Fox was concerned. And all of a sudden, she hated herself.

It was as if the day with Ethan two weeks before had been the beginning of something new, but at the same time, it was the end of everything. The night she felt more loved, more pleased, and more alive than she ever had was the night that she now believed was the highlight of her days. She soon realized that she was on a fast plummet to the bottom. Her high left the moment Ethan tore away from her and left her in a strangled cry. She didn't want to continue her life without Ethan, but she knew she couldn't continue with him. He'd made that fact perfectly clear. Theresa knew she was being unfair to Fox and in his defense, he had to have known something was wrong. She barely spoke to him after that night, only looking at him if she needed to. She was putting herself into misery, dragging all she knew down with her and she knew there was nothing anyone could do to stop it from happening. Life, as Theresa suddenly saw it, was an empty shell—a case she no longer wished to carry around.

And now the rose. She wanted to believe that Fox had merely gotten up and decided that it was a beautiful flower to give his wife… but he'd never been like that. There were no roses in the house and she knew that he had to have had special ordered it. There was a reason for the strange gift. But what?

Rubbing the stem between her fingers she twirled the long green branch and scanned the room for a note. The night table on his side was barren save for a lamp. Theresa looked over to her own table and saw nothing. Pressing her still-focusing eyes over to her dresser, she found that nothing resembling a note was to be found. Her curiosity continued to peak and nothing would stop the mounting questions.

In brief flashes, a nightmarish dream took hold and Theresa imagined that it was Ethan that had left the rose on the pillow next to her. She closed her eyes and embraced the reality she'd dreamt of since the day she'd married Fox. In the few moments before she fell asleep at night, and in the fuzzy instants between consciousness and sleep, she often wondered what it would have been like wake up to see Ethan staring at her, to have his eyes pressing deep into her soul just as they usually did. But just as fragile as those dreamlike minutes were, she awoke to find Fox sleeping next to her.

Every time she had those thoughts, she hated herself. Fox was a good man and he always treated her as she should have been: with kindness and respect and love. He loved her and she knew with what fervor he loved her. In hopes of being as kind to him as he was her, she'd wished she could love him back that way. But she couldn't. She knew that as long as there remained breath in her body, Ethan would remain in her heart. As that thought struck her brain, fresh tears pricked behind her eyes. And this was why she hated herself every morning. It was rare that she didn't dwell on the pain she continually caused Fox, the good man that he was. She hated hurting him but she knew that she could do nothing about the way her heart felt for Ethan. It was burned in her soul and engrained in her body. She lived to love him, but… it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Somehow managing to get out of bed, Theresa left the rose on her pillow and got dressed for work. All the while, the mystery of the flower haunted her fiercely. Summoning energy from the depths of her body, Theresa rolled her neck and readied herself for work. She knew that it was going to be increasingly stressful at her office. Just as her mind flashed to work, she realized something: Ethan. Fox had still expected her to begin working on the new design for Ethan's firm. Cursing the day ahead, Theresa realized that she would have to once again drag Ethan into her life without her permission. The thought made her angry and mournful all at the same time.

The night she'd spent with Ethan had left her on a different plane of existence; she wasn't sure she was human anymore. What had happened that night was special, intense, mind-numbing, and earth-shattering. She knew from the moment Ethan joined their bodies that her life would never be the same and she couldn't be sure if it leaned towards the positive or the negative.

It seemed as if it took her forever to climb from the floor and prepare herself for the disaster that was sure to become her continuing life. With Ethan gone, she wasn't sure her life had much meaning. Then guilt consumed her as she realized that she had a husband waiting for her at home—their home. Forcing herself to relive the pain she was all too familiar with over the years she'd promised herself to another man, Theresa kept living the lie that was inevitably her life. Now, weeks without speaking to Fox or seeing Ethan, her world was on a tumble. Nothing held meaning, nothing made her get out of bed in the morning, and it was as if she had nothing left to live for. The thought consumed her and scared her. She was sure that she wanted to live, but live the life she led? She wasn't sure just how long she would be able to continue. With every step, her energy and vitality waned and diminished and soon, she would be completely worn away.

Finally dressed and ready for the day, Theresa made her way out of her bedroom and down the staircase with the rose clasped in her hand. River looked up from his dusting in the parlor when he heard Theresa's steps coming down the stairs. Seeing the warm mistress of the house always put a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crane," he greeted as he waved a small duster in the air.

Theresa smiled back in response before speaking: "Hey, River." She stepped down onto the main floor and stood silently. She noticed River go back to his dusting and she debated whether or not to say something. "Umm…, River," she began hesitantly.

The stout man looked up with another smile as if he were elated that she summoned his attention. "Yes, Mrs. Crane?"

Almost finding it difficult to voice her words, Theresa said nothing and eyed him silently. She toyed with the idea of whether or not to ask him, but finally found that the curiosity was becoming too much for her to bear. "Did… did Fox say anything this morning?" she asked.

River passed her a quizzical look, his eyes suddenly taking on a concerned expression. "Mr. Crane… about what, Mrs. Crane?" Almost as if it made him sound ignorant and not quite doing his job, River hated asking the question.

"Did he say anything before he left this morning? About me?" Theresa waited for an answer and suddenly she realized how stupid she sounded.

River paused, his eyes shifting to the ceiling deep in thought. He tried to summon what she called for from the depths of his mind, and still, he knew nothing of what she asked. "I don't think so, Mrs. Crane. He asked me to get his newspaper from the table before he left…"

Hoping that he would explain Fox's reasons for leaving her a single rose on her pillow, Theresa was disappointed with River's answer. Her face went down and her expression changed suddenly. River noticed it and immediately he felt as if he'd failed at his job.

"And when he walked out the door," he began again, "I did wish him a good day."

Theresa smiled inside when she thought of the genuine desire River possessed of wanting to serve other people. While he never said much to her, he was a joy to have around the house—especially on the days when all she wanted to do was find a hole in the earth and fall in. "Oh… but he didn't mention anything… that might be out of the ordinary? Nothing about a rose?"

River found her question a bit odd and stared at her for a second almost as if wondering if she'd hit her head this morning. Looking her up and down, his eyes finally came across the red rose in her hand and it made more sense to him. "No, Mrs. Crane… nothing."

He smiled and Theresa nodded before she walked to the front door. Bustling along like an excited child, River disappeared for a split second before returning with her jacket and briefcase. Theresa folded her coat beneath her arm and took the briefcase in her hand. River opened door for her and Theresa stepped out into the bright air of the morning. The black limo waited in its usual spot with Harold ready and waiting to hold the door open.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Crane," River waved on. Theresa turned back to him with an accepting smile before making her way down the few steps to her waiting escort.

Harold held the door open for her when she approached and with a slight bow, he ushered her in the limo. Letting a soft exhale escape her chest, Theresa felt the plush leather against her back as she sat inside. Harold went around the car and took the driver's seat and with a slight pull backwards, Theresa was on her way to work.

Theresa still held the rose in her hand. She brought it up to her face and examined it closely. She stared at the intricate folds and the velvety texture of the petals. The smooth green stem felt like wax under her fingertips and for the millionth time that morning, Theresa wondered what Fox's motive was to place the flower on her pillow. It almost bothered her. Theresa was never one to accept mystery or the unknown. She always liked to know exactly what was going on and why. Never kept in the dark about anything and hoping that she hadn't made Fox feel guilty, she pressed her mind to fathom some kind of answer to the plaguing mystery of the red rose.

Again bringing the bloom to her nose, Theresa took in the floral scent and let her mind wander. She imagined the wind sweeping across the petals of hundreds of wild roses as the sun brightened them in light. Perhaps it was a sign of peace. What if Fox had figured out that Theresa's recent distance and emotional turmoil had been rooted in him? Maybe he was extending an olive branch to help reconcile the unseen rift between them. Whatever the reason, Theresa knew only one thing for certain: the rose made her feel guilty and she hated it.

There were the moments when the images of the night with Ethan would flood her mind and it would take all her self control to repress the memories into the region of her brain that was to go unexplored. She couldn't afford to remember how it felt to be in his arms again or what his tongue tasted like against her own. She was sure that just avoiding his memory would drive her mad but she had to try. The strength that she somehow had summoned the day of her wedding could not be called forth again no matter how hard she tried. Like a thirsty man in the desert, she couldn't turn her back. And just like the oasis, Ethan had the ability to renew her life.

Staring into the dark folds of the flower had made time pass by quickly. The next thing she knew, the limo was coming to a slow halt and Harold was stepping out to open her door. Theresa surveyed the world outside the tinted window for a brief second, taking in what she had to face for the day. She knew that the rose would haunt her all day long and if she didn't receive the answer soon, she knew that she had something to anticipate when she got home. Steadying herself, as soon as the door opened, Theresa took Harold's hand and stepped out onto the sidewalk with the usual grace that accompanied the habitual Crane. She blurred past the receptionist in the main lobby, barely noticing when she pressed the elevator button and was soon walking past her assistant's desk.

Chris immediately looked up when he heard the sharp claps of Theresa's heels against the floor. "Morning, T," he called to her.

Theresa's brows perked up at the sound of her name and she momentarily diverted her attention from the rose. "Hey, nice shirt," she returned upon seeing the bright pink polo he sported for the day. Every now and again, his fashion would surprise her. She knew that there was nothing that Chris wouldn't try and his bold quality was something she always enjoyed. Besides, it kept her in a continual suspense to wonder what he would wear to work the following day.

"You have a visitor." Chris spoke quickly and didn't add anything else before he continued with his work. Just as he was about to answer the always-ringing phone, Theresa stopped him.

"A visitor? He's here? Chris… what is he doing here?" Her eyes seemed frozen open, blinking completely escaping her. Breathing, thinking, and even the beating of her heart seemed to stop in her shock.

Chris' expression changed slightly at her questions. He wasn't sure whether to be confused or surprised. "He?" he began. With a smile, Chris marked something off the desk calendar beneath his hands and looked up at her. "T, it's Whitney. You set up a lunch date with her. Don't you remember?" Theresa stood with confusion crossing her brain. She wasn't sure she understood. She was asking what he was doing in her office and the only response she got was Whitney. The expression on Chris' face told her that he was suddenly worried about her sanity. "Who did you think I was talking about?"

Not answering, Theresa looked over to her office door and surveyed it. Suddenly, the fears she'd gathered about seeing him on the other side quieted. Without realizing it, the breath that had been bottled up in her chest finally escaped and the relief flooded over her body.

"T," Chris called back her attention.

Ripped from a confusing daze, Theresa looked back over to her assistant. "Sorry, what?"

Chris paused before he spoke next. He knew what he was about to ask would probably be considered inappropriate in most work forces, especially posed to the mistress of the company. But at the same time, Chris and Theresa were not just employer and employee; they were friends, and as a friend, Chris felt he had both a right and a duty to ask what he did next. "Who did you think I was talking about?" he repeated. "Or better yet, who were you hoping it was?"

Theresa's eyes shifted back to him quickly, her own surprise showing clearly on her face. She swallowed hard, still pushing away the stopped breaths. Even though Chris passed her a slight smile under his question, Theresa's face remained void of emotion. She had to admit, though, in the few seconds between finding out that it was only Whitney waiting for her in her office and Chris' question, she wasn't sure who she wanted it to be on the other side of the door.

* * *

Whitney was sitting on the edge of Theresa's desk with a picture frame in her hands. Her expression seemed almost dreamlike and focused as she stared at the picture behind the glass.

"Hey, Whit," Theresa greeted as she opened the door.

Suddenly looking up, Whitney pushed the picture back onto Theresa's desk and stood up. "Theresa… hey," Whitney said hesitantly, smoothing the fabric over her pants. Almost as if caught with crayons after she colored on the wall, there was guilt that showed clearly on her face. She tried to smile but Theresa knew her best friend and she knew it was a façade; besides, Theresa had grown accustomed to using and seeing a forced smile. They had become most of her life.

"You okay?" Theresa asked as she closed the door to her office.

Whitney took a quick glance towards the picture and Theresa barely noticed. "Yeah… I'm okay. Just thinking."

Theresa slowly walked behind her desk and set her briefcase down next to her feet. As Whitney took a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of the desk, Theresa took the opportunity to look at the picture. It was taken on her wedding day. Charles stood on Fox's right and Whitney on Theresa's left. The alter was behind them, the magic of the day seemingly spilling out of the picture.

Theresa wasn't stupid, and she wasn't blind. She knew that Whitney carried a deep weight on her heart for some time and for some reason, it only seemed to grow heavier if Fox was around. And just now, as Theresa caught Whitney staring at the picture of the four of them, she somehow knew that it wasn't her dress or Charles' tux that had caught Whitney's eye. Fox, as it seemed, was the one that weighted so much upon Whitney's secret heart.

Clearing her throat softly, Theresa took a moment before she began speaking. "I'm sorry for being a little late. I almost forgot you were coming today," she smiled. Whitney gingerly returned the gesture and took interest in her fingernails. "Whit, you sure you're okay?" Theresa asked concerned.

Whitney suddenly looked up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry. I've just been a little down these past few days… hormones I guess." Even with an added smile, Theresa knew her best friend was lying.

"Hmm… well, if you're sure…." Theresa searched her face for a sliver of doubt or a hidden suggestion that there was more to Whitney's story, but she found none.

Pressing her lips together and forcing the corners of her mouth up, Whitney smiled up at her friend. "So how are you? How's… uh… how's Fox?"

Theresa's fingertips rested on the desk in front of her and she unknowingly toyed with the edges of a few file folders left on her desk. The suggestion of Fox lit something in her mind: Whitney's feelings were coming more to the surface and for some reason, Theresa's heart broke for her friend. "Good. He's fine…" Theresa looked down at the papers on her desk and forced herself not to think of the amount of work she he ahead of her. "Actually, though," she said as she turned her head back up, "there's something bothering me about him."

"He's bothering you?" Whitney asked surprised.

"Well, it's not so much him," she confessed. "It's just… this morning, there was a rose on my pillow." As she ended her sentence, holding up the rose in her hand, her face let loose a wince almost as if the connotations of what she had said left some deep, unsettling bridge in her voice.

Whitney looked at her as if caught in deep, penetrating thought. "A rose? Hmmm…. And that's bad?"

"Well, it's not bad. But, you know Fox. He's not the type of person to leave roses on a pillow. He's just not… Well, he's never done that before. I just don't understand why he'd do it all of a sudden."

Both Theresa and Whitney fell into silence, each thinking and allowing their thoughts to be carried through their brains. They contemplated different possibilities as to why he would have done something so out of character and still, Theresa came up with the blanks that had filled her mind that morning when she was first greeted with the flower.

"Do you think he knows?" Whitney suddenly asked. Theresa looked at her slightly confused. "About Ethan…?" Theresa and Whitney exchanged silent glances and immediately, Whitney could tell that Theresa didn't wish to be reminded of that night.

At Whitney's suggestion, Theresa reminded herself that she hadn't ruled out that possibility. The idea that Fox knew about her unfaithfulness had been one of Theresa's first thoughts. But still the lingering questions didn't seem to be quieted. "But why…?"

"Only Fox knows that," Whitney said. "Still, if he did know about Ethan, I think Fox would be too proud to do something like that."

"Yeah," Theresa admitted. She knew Whitney was right. Fox was a very proud man and he hated for other people to see him down or outdo him. The memories of when they'd first met surrounded her. Theresa remembered how shiny Fox's eyes would get when he described his lifelong desire to have the love of his parents, to be so loved and respected like his brother—Ethan. The guilt that she'd felt since the night with Ethan immediately multiplied in her chest. Not only had Fox been passed over for his parents' love, trust, respect, and pride, but all of a sudden, Ethan had robbed him of his own wife.

And it was all her fault.

The weight and the guilt pressed down into her; she felt like falling. The wetness was once again reborn in the corners of her eyes and she had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep them from getting heavier. Again, Theresa realized that she had no one to blame but herself. All the pain, all the hurt, all the aching emotions that she endured, everything that Ethan and Fox went through, all pointed to Theresa and she hated it. The two men that loved her could only thank her for the pain that she continually inflicted upon them.

"Theresa," Whitney prompted back her attention.

Theresa didn't answer and just looked at her. For some reason, she couldn't let the rose go. It had a strange and spellbinding grasp on her. It was almost as if something were telling her that it was much more important than just a rose; it held some deeper meaning that she still couldn't discern.

Detaching her vision from her friend and staring far off, Whitney concentrated on the space in the air. Her mind worked quickly, thoughts filling and memories pounding. "Maybe," Whitney began, "the rose was for—"

"T," Chris interrupted as he pranced into the office. Both Theresa and Whitney looked up at him and they noticed that he was carrying things in his arms. "These just arrived for you."

Something fell away in Theresa's chest as she looked at the items Chris was delivering her. Under one arm, he held a small package no bigger than the size of a standard box of chocolates and in the other arm, he carried a vase. In it, there was a large bouquet of red roses tied together with a white ribbon.

Chris placed both items on her desk with a smile. "Looks like somebody loves you out there, huh?"

Theresa looked at the flowers and couldn't help but stare deeply. Something was speaking to her about them and she couldn't say what. "Who are they from?" she suddenly asked.

"Umm… they came by messenger." Overlooking the bouquet, Chris pointed to one corner. "There's a card, though. Check it out."

Whitney looked at Theresa and passed her a look that was seemingly unreadable. "See who it's from, Theresa."

It was strange, almost as if she didn't want to know who the roses were from, or their mysterious purpose, Theresa felt the hesitation before she read the card. With a quivering wrist, Theresa took the small white card in her hand and slowly opened the envelope. As she flipped the flap open, she turned it and read her name on the front. It was in writing that she recognized. But still, the feeling in her heart would not cease until she understood the full meaning. She pulled the small card out. It was a simple card with white detailing on the front and again with a shake in her hand, she finally lifted it open and read the contents.

Both Chris and Whitney watched as Theresa's eyes moved quickly over the words in the card and waited for her to say something. "Theresa?" Whitney asked. "Who's it from?"

Theresa opened her mouth and she felt something consume her. Nothing came from her voice but the tears began. The guilt that had been eating away at her seemed like nothing compared to what grasped at her heart in that instant. "It's from Fox…," she began slowly.

"Is everything okay?" Chris asked.

Trying to hold back her tears, Theresa began reading aloud. "_'I can't tell you how fast these past three years have gone by. At the same time, I wouldn't ask to have them back. The time I've spent as your husband has been the most fulfilling of my life and I know that what I feel for you is given by only God Himself. I love you, Theresa. Happy Anniversary.'_"

"Anniversary?" Chris asked. "It's your anniversary today? Why didn't you tell me?" As he looked up at his boss, he realized the answer. It wasn't that she hadn't mentioned it to him because she didn't wish him to know, it wasn't that she didn't want congratulatory wishes; she forgot.

Theresa forgot her own anniversary.

"I was just about to tell you that, Theresa," Whitney said. As Theresa looked up, she felt the need to explain. "Before he came in," she gestured at Chris, "I was going to say that maybe the rose was for your anniversary…"

"Look at the back," Chris said suddenly.

Breath caught in her throat, surprise and dread filling her chest, Theresa turned the card over in her hand. The words were there, written in his smooth, calligraphic swipe: _Crane Tower Hotel 6:30 pm. _Whitney and Chris looked up at her with compassion-filled faces. She didn't know what to do. She felt somehow betrayed, used, and even worse, guilty. It was her anniversary and not only had she forgotten, but she soon realized that at Fox's hotel suggestion, she only wanted to run away.

"What's in the box, Theresa?" Whitney asked, diverting the conversation to another subject as she internally dealt with her own emotions.

Finally ripping her attention away from the bouquet of roses and the insinuating card, Theresa turned back to the slim package that Chris had handed to her when he first walked in. It was a small brown package that weighed next to nothing informing Theresa that the contents weren't much. Using a pen from the fountain stand on her desk, Theresa pushed the point into the clear tape at the edge. At the snap of the tape, she forced the tip of the pen along the seam of the box. Doing the same on all sides, the box was free of its constriction. Theresa was sure that she would find a box of the finest chocolate staring at her when she opened the box.

She was wrong.

Inside, there was a simple white tissue paper and inside lay a thin CD case. It was plastic and only big enough to house the CD that glinted silver in the light. Scotch taped to the plastic cover of the case was a small piece of paper with two words: Never Forget.

The words resounded in her head again and again, reverberating against the soft inner emotions and confines of how her mind worked. Faster than the speed of light, an invisible quest began in her memory bank to find the source of the words. Flashing back and forth through different memories in her life, she tried to find the root. From her brothers, to her husband, her friends, her job, her past, her future, her dreams, her hopes, everything passed through her forethoughts and finally, it all crashed to a halt as she made the connection.

Never forget.

_Of course,_ she thought. She picked up the CD case and examined it. Inside there was a simple CD and as she looked at the note taped to the cover, she inspected it for a sender's name, for something that would confirm it. There was only one thing she needed to look at: the handwriting. It was an immediate second and she knew.

"Chris," she spoke softly, breaking the silence around them. "You said these came by messenger?"

Confused, Chris looked up at her and back to the CD in her hands, wondering what was so important. "Yeah," he admitted. "Well, actually, they didn't come together."

Theresa's eyes jumped away from the CD she held and up to his face. "Where did this come from?" she asked desperately.

"Oh, uh, a guy dripped it off. The roses got here first and I just figured that the messenger forgot the box in his delivery truck or something."

"But it was the same messenger?" Theresa asked, the desperation in her voice lessening slightly.

"No," Chris said. Immediately, Theresa's eyes grew and she put the CD back in the package it came in. "A different guy brought it up," he confessed.

"What guy? What did he look like?" Theresa demanded. Whitney sat by and silently wondered what was going on.

"He had a suit on… um… blue eyes. He was pretty cute," Chris smiled.

"Where did he go?" Theresa asked quickly. Chris looked at her with a confused look on his face. "Chris, where did he go?"

"He went back downstairs I guess. He took the elevator…"

The next thing Chris and Whitney knew was Theresa hurriedly ran through her office door and down the hallway to her private elevator. She punched the button to call it open and did the same as she wished the elevator down to the lobby. It seemed like an eternity until she was down to the ground floor again. Finally, when the doors opened in front of her, she ran out into the lobby and to the front doors of the building. Just as she got there, in a blur, a black Lexus drove away.

* * *

Her legs felt like jelly as she got off the elevator and walked back to her office. She knew that Chris and Whitney would demand to know what happened, but she couldn't tell them. How could she? Instead, she decided, as soon as she got back to her office, she would find a way to explain her behavior and think of an excuse to dismiss her lunch with Whitney.

She needed to be alone now.

"Um… Whit," she began as soon as she entered the office and faced the curious stares. "I'm sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel lunch for today. I… uh… I forgot that I had a meeting to go to." As she finished speaking, Chris looked up at her as if to say that he knew she was lying.

"Oh, right," Chris chimed in unknowingly. "Yeah, the meeting with… with the heads of the company that needs Crane's…" he trailed off and allowing her to fill in.

"They need Crane's approval for a new line," Theresa lied.

Whitney looked from Theresa to Chris and back. With Theresa's behavior, she didn't need anymore coaxing to know that her friend needed to be alone with whatever it was she got in the box. "Oh, okay…," Whitney sighed. "Then, I guess I'll just see you later then?"

Theresa nodded as she walked back to behind her desk. She watched as Whitney grabbed her coat from the chair and slung her purse over her arm. With a pressed smile on her lips, Theresa said goodbye to her friend as she walked out of the office. Chris took the hint and waded out to his desk just after Whitney without a word. As soon as the door closed, Theresa breathed a sigh of relief for a reason that she didn't really understand.

Looking down at the package she'd just received, Theresa took the CD case in her hand. Staring at the words written on the small piece of paper taped to it sent something spinning around her. Finally finding some courage, she pulled the case open and took the CD from the plastic confines. Careful to avoid touching the bottom, she took the edges against her fingertips and took a seat behind her desk. She pushed the small button on the left side of her laptop and the tray popped open. Carefully placing the CD in the tray, Theresa watched it make a half spin before she pushed it back in.

The computer made a strange sound, spinning the CD inside as it tried to read the data. A window appeared on the desktop prompting Theresa to choose which program to run the CD in. Choosing a media player, Theresa waited with a heavy breath at the back of her throat. With another quick spin inside the computer, the speakers came to life.

_It's daybreak_

_And you are asleep_

_I can hear you breathe now_

_Your breath is deep_

The softness of the singer's voice flooded over Theresa, almost as if her ears were being kissed by a butterfly's wings. Even before her mind really focused on the words, Theresa knew what the song was about. The intensity of the quiet moment propelled her into an unquenchable abyss.

_But before I go,_

_I look at you one last time_

_I can hear a heartbeat_

_Is it yours or is it mine?_

Closing her eyes and savoring the words wrapping around her ears, Theresa took in the music. Almost as if she were hearing the words from Ethan himself, she suddenly remembered the look on his face as he pulled away from her. Beating quickly, erratically, his heart spoke to her in ways that only he could. He'd described with such pain in his voice what they'd started again could not go on, but the last look left her with such torment and anguish.

_I look at your lips_

_I know how soft they can be_

_Did they know what they wanted_

_The times they kissed me?_

Her memories took hold and she was suddenly lying down next to him the morning she woke in his arms. Her eyes still hazy from sleep; his skin soft against her hands; his face filled with such genuine love. She remembered looking down at his lips, the smoothness that she enjoyed running her mouth over. Never before had she known a kiss like his. It was as if when their lips met, the world cast out everything else. A kiss for them would be the only thing either could not imagine living without—the tender mixing and caressing that sent intimate tingles into their spines.

_And your hands_

_That I held in mine_

_Now they're reposing on the pillow_

_Will they ever miss me some time?_

Agonizing and rushing into her palms with warmth, Theresa felt the clench of his hands against hers when he entered her for the first time. After asking him if what was happening was real, he'd traced along her skin, up her arms, to her hands and finally, he'd interlocked their fingers as he braced them both to share what only true lovers could. His hands… with such strength, with such passion, he pressed her most sensitive areas, rubbing and tickling, moving, kneading, feeling, caressing and touching her with an enormous desire that sent her on a crash she could never have imagined possible.

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_Now that is all I can do_

_But I'll remember_

He said goodbye to her. He left her there alone and confused, cold and heartbroken. The pain that she endured everyday, she knew, was her fault. Crossing the lines with a married man, and then crossing those same lines once she was married was only the recipe for a catastrophe. Was it all she was to be left with? Only memories? Was that fair? She often took the question to God and she often wondered what kind of being could be so cruel as to make her live the life she did. The happiness that her family and friends brought her could never compare to the happiness her heart felt when she was with Ethan. In the few seconds of touching him, only kissing him, knowing his love, hearing his ecstasy and breathing moans of pleasure that he brought her would fulfill her life beyond anything she'd ever known possible.

_Your eyes_

_That always make me shiver_

_Now they are closed_

_They can sometimes twitch a little_

They were blue. Almost a fiery aquamarine that filtered into a sapphire color when the blood rushed over his body and covered his thoughts in lust. As his eyes locked on hers just before a powerful orgasm took over her body, she felt something slip from her soul to his. They were connected in mind and body through that stare. Just as she clenched her inner muscles around him, she could have sworn that she saw his pupils dilate and shrink in an instant. With the amount of pleasure both of them felt then, their eyes closed and shaded the connection that would continue through their bodies that surged into fire.

_And your body_

_I could hold for an hour_

_It sent me to heaven_

_With its heat and power_

She screamed the second time they made love. Swiping a tear from her eye, somehow able to focus, she could almost relive the moment. Her nerves were ultra sensitive, screaming and only allowing for the maximum stimulation. As their first time ended and Ethan relaxed to the sound of her beating heart, the closeness of her body also made it difficult for him to remain in control. Never leaving her body, his need for her turned him hard and they were moving together again. This time, only minutes after three shuddering and powerful orgasms, Theresa moaned louder than before. Her pelvis rocked harder and higher, her skin tingled when he touched her, and suddenly, everything about the moment didn't seem like enough. Still reeling from explosive pleasure, his thrusts were felt a hundred times more intensely and their peaks came faster and louder. With hard breaths, Theresa had no reservations about releasing her pleasure vocally and she screamed his name.

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_That is all that I can do_

Sometimes having to distract herself from focusing on what it felt like to be in his arms, Theresa would put herself to work or delve into something that wouldn't allow her much time to think. She rathered live without the memories than with the pain they caused. There were times when she would wake up and wish that it had all been a strange dream. But it never was. The pain was inescapable and just like always, her soul wept, her heart cried, and the tears fell from her eyes. Putting her hand over her mouth, she tried to contain her agony, blocking the screams that were sure to come out. Only flashes of what she had with Ethan in one night were needed to bring her to her lowest, but the song brought more than just flashes. With the soulful lyrics and a deep, smooth singing voice, Theresa relived every touch, every whisper, every kiss, every moan, every sigh, every scream, every movement, and the dream she knew would never come true.

_But I'll remember_

She would remember forever.

_I'll Remember You - Sophie Zelmani  
_

* * *

It was less than a five minute drive from Crane Tower to the Crane Tower Hotel and for some reason, Theresa suddenly wished she had more time. The black limo rolled to a slow stop right in front of a bellhop and Theresa was quickly escorted to the hotel. After passing a revolving, brass-plated door, she was introduced to the grandeur of the establishment.

Inside, just as she walked in, her feet stopped as she took in the master staircase and marble pillars that lined the lobby. The floors were patterned with sepia marble and parquet wood. From the revolving doors, all the way up the staircase and to the different levels, scarlet carpet covered the walkway with gold decals that twisted in a calligraphic symbol. The reception desk was a deep mahogany that was complimented by the brass-plated fixtures, the low lamplight, and the large Swarovski crystal chandelier that adorned the ceiling.

Finally taking her eyes from the spectacular surroundings, Theresa finally turned her attention to a smiling man behind the reception desk who eagerly awaited her arrival. At first taking slow steps, Theresa crossed over the red carpet to the beautiful floor with a subtle clapping of her Jimmy Choo shoes.

"May I help you, ma'am?" the polite man behind the desk asked. He wore a navy dinner jacket with a tie that matched the carpet and a fleur de lis pin on each shoulder for accent.

Smiling as she approached, Theresa closed in on the desk and set her purse next to her feet before looking up at the receptionist. "Uh, yes," she sighed. "Reservation for Crane?"

As soon as she spoke, the mild-mannered man's eyes shot open slightly further than they had been. "Ah, Mrs. Crane," he stuttered. "So nice to have you back with us. You will be in the Estate Suite on the fourteenth floor." His actions were suddenly not as confident, his gestures quick and shaky, almost as if being evaluated by the president. Twitching and confused to either turn or grab her key backwards, the man finally turned to the brown boxes behind him that contained every key for the hotel and pulled out a gold key card. Theresa took the key as he gave it to her and she noticed that on it was engraved a star and a few dots that were no doubt read by a laser upon entering her suite.

"The key will, uh, also access your private elevator that will take you up to the suite," he said nervously as he pointed to her right to a brass door at the back of the lobby. Looking from the key and back up to the man, Theresa smiled her thanks. Just as she bent down to pick up her purse from beside her left ankle, he called back her attention. "Enjoy your stay here at Crane Tower, Mrs. Crane. If there's anything we can to make your stay more comfortable…"

"Thank you," Theresa finally said. She had to admit, as much as she sometimes enjoyed the swooning and respect that was given with her last name, there were also the instances when it was downright annoying. With nothing else, she finally left the polished desk, key in hand, and walked with slow clapping to the elevator that was deemed just for her.

The key was a small gold plate with a laser code and open square on the side. Next to the door was a simple slit in the wall that Theresa only assumed was where the key went. As she put the edge in, a magnet inside drew in the card and a blinking light went on above the elevator door. The bright door pulled open and the key slipped out of the slit. After she grabbed her card from the wall, Theresa took a step into the elevator and waited to be lifted to her suite.

Feeling the slight pull of gravity and the empty pressure in her ears as she was quickly taken to her room, Theresa suddenly saw the door slide open in front of her and the twisting took over in her stomach. Stepping out into the room, the elevator door quickly slid closed behind her.

Suddenly, completely stuck in the moment, fully realizing what was around, Theresa took in the atmosphere. The room—more like a penthouse apartment—was huge. To her right she found a sitting room complete with a bar. The furniture was imported, finely upholstered, and only told of its lavish comfort. Ahead she saw doors that led to the bedroom, one to the bathroom. Past the small hallway was a dining area graced with a fireplace and finally, the wall was lined with windowed doors that led out to the veranda.

Slowly walking through, the mellow candlelight was unmistakable now. Glowing and flickering against the walls, candles quickly caught her eye. Shadows were cast on the carpeted floor, soft flames printed against the walls as the oxygen made them dance into orange and blue peaks on their wicks. There were tall candles, short candles, wide candles, thin candles, round and square candles. There were some on plates, some were suspended on short crystal holders, others were on floor-length holders.

Taking in the full room that was lined with the windowed doors, she noticed that a small round table sat waiting for her. To the side of the table was a silver bucket with a chilled bottle of champagne wrapped in a white linen. The table was adorned with fine china, champagne flutes, and in the middle of the table sat a thin crystal vase that contained two perfect red roses. Awe finally struck her. After noticing all the details, the care that had been taken to decorate the room as it had been, her mouth hung open. Suddenly able to process the images, the beauty surrounding her hit. Everything was gorgeous; and all for her. So entranced with the setup, Theresa didn't even hear a person behind her.

Almost startling her, an arm reached over her shoulder and grasped the champagne bottle that rested in the silver bucket. Flinching in surprise and fear, Theresa turned and saw a tuxedoed Fox before her. He smiled at her when she turned to face him and he reached around her again to retrieve a champagne flute from the table after exchanging the bottle to his other hand. She watched him take the glass and fill it halfway with the golden liquid before he did it again. As he handed her a glass, he put the bottle back into the bucket and turned his attention back to the woman in front of him.

Theresa took the glass in her hand and stared at the rising bubbles within. "Happy anniversary," he sighed. Theresa couldn't help but smile. He was always so good to her, so thoughtful. He smiled at her, his brown eyes pressing deeply into hers.

"You did all this for me?" she asked.

There was a pause, almost as if her question shocked him. Fox looked down at her, his stare empty of emotion. Surprising her, he went forward and kissed her lips softly, lightly, almost as if touching them with a rose pedal. Theresa momentarily closed her eyes and took in the feel of the kiss before he pulled away.

"This," Fox breathed slowly as he slightly gestured around the room, "is nothing. When I asked you to marry me, you changed my life. There's not enough I can do to pay you back for that." He smiled down at her as if she held the secrets to his universe. Clinking their glasses together, he began speaking again: "To… to you," he breathed again. "I love you."

Both he and Theresa took a drink and let the bubbly sensation touch the backs of their throats. Fox quickly finished his glass and placed it back on the table behind Theresa. Just as Theresa finished taking a sip, Fox grabbed her glass and before she could comprehend what was happening, he'd taken her in his arms. Ravishing her quickly with a kiss and haphazardly placing the glass out of their way, Theresa was consumed. His mouth against hers was erotic, both sensual and forcefully telling her what he had planned for them.

As his lips moved over hers in what she considered a hard pressure, the sudden images that flooded her brain pounded with intensity. His mouth was hot, his lips were smooth, his tongue was liquid… all like Ethan's. His face came into view, his body, his skin, his eyes, the way the breath escaped his chest in a deep sigh as she kissed the sensitive space under his ear. The more she focused on the reality with Fox, the more her mind wandered to memories and fantasies of Ethan.

Fox's hand slowly made its way to the small of her back, cradling her in his arm, his touch pressing her closer to his body. She fell evenly into his arms, almost as if they were meant to fit next to each other. But still, there was something missing that continued to gnaw at her brain. What it was, however, she couldn't quite place. Everything began to feel right: the champagne, the roses, the candles, the kiss; everything. But just quickly as that feeling passed her brain, betrayal caught hold of her heart. What was she doing? As she kissed Fox, she soon realized that she kept fantasizing about kissing Ethan and what it would feel like to have his lips against hers and how his tongue would taste.

Almost dropping her glass of champagne from pressing her hand against Fox's shoulder for so long, Theresa finally took hold of her bearings and focused herself. She realized where she was, and worse, who she was with. Seeing Fox's face come into view in front of her where Ethan's face had just been was hard to witness. She hated the betraying feeling her heart took on whenever she thought of another man while with her husband. And worse than that, the emptiness that her heart felt as soon as realized that the freedom and ecstasy that had just been was only a dream. More than anything, she wished that when she saw Ethan's face before her, he would really be there when she opened her eyes and the anger she felt with herself afterwards would never be again.

Fox took his hand from her face and quickly parted their lips, both red from suction and pressure. It took a hazy moment for them to open their eyes and look at one another. Theresa was too enveloped in her own thoughts and Fox was only trying to savor the moment longer. Finally, he broke the silence with his voice and she froze before him when she heard him speak.

"I want you…," he breathed huskily.

More than anything, those words resounded in her ears almost as if she didn't know what to do with them. What should she do? Her husband had set up an entire evening for her complete with candles, flowers, and champagne. She couldn't very well deny him because her heart was still in agony over someone else, could she?

Breaking another strong kiss, he took her face in his hands. "I want you so much, Theresa…." The way he spoke was deep and she could hear the frustration his body felt in his voice. Suddenly, as he caressed up her spine, her body became sensitive to everything it was feeling, including the hard knot that was pressed against her hip. The next thing she felt were Fox's hands rubbing down her bodice to claim the buttons on her blazer. Quickly undoing them, he slid his hands around her body and pulled her close to him. Her pelvis made contact with his and an uncontrollable desire flooded her then.

She had been in the position before and she knew very well where he was heading with his actions. As he pushed himself against her, making her feel him on her, he slowly began walking them backwards together, almost as if dancing. Not even having to look behind him, Fox stepped into the bedroom while still focusing on kissing Theresa. Despite the way her nerves began tingling as he caressed her, kissed her and made her more desirous, she felt nothing.

The backs of her legs made contact with the edge of the bed as Fox guided her around the room. Slowly, as Fox pulled the jacket from her shoulders, Theresa's mind spun and whirled back to what it felt like to have Ethan's hands on her body. As his mouth found contact with the crook of her neck, the liquid feeling sent her back to the sensation of Ethan's tongue.

Ethan took over her mind completely then. Instead of feeling Fox's lips against hers, or his hands pushing away the fabric of her shirt, she could only feel Ethan; she only saw Ethan. She closed her eyes and allowed the feelings to completely consume her mind. Reminded of the night that the passion inside her soul burst out with Ethan, she could almost feel the wetness of the rain against her skin.

Fox's hands slipped underneath her shirt, caressing her body, and teased her to a whim. Minute flashes of Fox's face came into her mind, but still, as soon as she could focus on his brown eyes, her brain switched and made Ethan's blue ones appear before her. It was what she truly wanted inside. Ethan—she knew—was the only one she could ever really truly want. If she was ever to be happy, she knew that Ethan would have to be a part of her life, and he would have to be the one standing before her now, touching her, loving her.

_Disgust_.

Suddenly, unable to hide from her emotions and put her fantasies first, only Fox could be seen. Even now, as her husband was touching her, preparing to make love to her, she couldn't stop thinking about another man. She hated herself most of the time; if not more than she ever had, definitely more than she could have ever imagined. Fox was such a good man, he was so kind and so caring and the only reward she could give him for his nobilities was her infidelity with both her mind and body. Day and night, whenever her mind could no longer fight it, little by little, it was eating her up inside. Every day without Ethan to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her, she felt as if a small part of her was dying. But yet, every minute she went thinking about Ethan, the betrayal against Fox grew and was slowly consuming her and ravaging her apart.

Her eyes shot open, blank windows that stared out in the empty room. Fox worked his mouth against her neck—a trick he'd quickly learned produced a response from her. Theresa knew what he was doing, and any other time her body would not have been able to ignore the mounting desire. She suddenly felt nothing. It was almost as if she'd separated form her body and took to watching two lovers across the room. She felt herself go limp: her hands fell from their grasp against his shoulders, her eyes opened and blanked in an empty stare, and her overall body language was nothing but indicative of her unwillingness for the moment.

"Hey," he said in a breath as he pulled back. "You okay?"

She noticed his hung open mouth, read and swollen, his chest lifted high with each inhale. Guilt pelted at her fiercely. He didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve him. "Yeah," she lied. Reaching her hands up to his arms, she took a step closer to him. "I'm fine."

Before Fox had a chance to protest, she pulled in close and kissed him. At first, Fox froze and gave her a chance to back away if she wanted. With every time their lips broke and reconnected, Fox's body heat climbed. His breathing hitched against and the next time she made contact with his mouth, he could not longer repress himself. Finally giving him a tangible confirmation, Theresa pushed the dinner jacket from his shoulders. He let his arms fall back and the sleeves slid down to the floor. Theresa knew she had to put on a performance. It wasn't that she didn't want Fox, but rather, it was someone else that she couldn't stop dreaming of making love to. Every touch and every kiss sent her mind back to the body-shattering night that she laid in Ethan's arms and listened to the beating of his heart.

Fox's hands reached lower on her back, sliding down to grasp the zipper on the back of her skirt. Pulling it with his thumb, the plastic tie slid open with a light buzz. Open now against her hips, the slip of fabric fell with almost no effort. Standing before him half naked, she then realized that it was really going to happen. Stealing herself and trying to push Ethan out of her reality, Theresa reached forward and began undoing Fox's belt and the pants around his waist. Fox watched her with dark and desirous eyes and simply stood and allowed her to continue with her ministrations. Deciding to help and quicken the gap of time before he could no longer control himself, Fox began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the tanned muscular chest beneath. After a husky breath, and lessening bodily control, Fox pushed his pants down and pulled his shirt behind his shoulders.

He turned with a pivot of his foot and pulled her to him again. Engaged in a kiss, they both focused on removing more clothing before falling to the bed. Theresa's shirt was quickly removed, her shoes kicked off, and her hair tousled down to her shoulders. Everything happened so quickly both physically and mentally and Theresa could barely keep the pace. Fox took the liberty of sliding her bra straps from her shoulders and she took the hint. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped the brassiere and let it fall in front of her. Her breasts hung before him, and as usual, he couldn't rip away his stare. Almost like a child is attracted to candy at the store, his hands couldn't help but touch. He held her in his hands, massaging her breasts tenderly and excited at her light moan. Overtaken by the brazen reaction she ignited within him, he quickly put his mouth to her neck, sucking over her jugular, biting teasingly, kissing and licking as to leave a mark—his mark.

Theresa didn't fight the flood of lust as he suckled on her neck and toyed with her nipples. Her body was programmed to react and it did without her consent. Her arms went around his neck and traced up and down his back, egging him on, producing even more heat between them. She closed her eyes and imagined she was watching him suck on her neck. She could feel herself becoming lost beneath him, completely ravaged in carnal drives. As she opened her eyes again and stared up at the ceiling while holding his neck against her, the grayness she looked at sucked her in. She had stared at a similar ceiling in Ethan's bedroom.

_He nuzzled her neck as she gasped aloud and let a strong scream sound. The rippling waves of fire pulsed through her and her body imploded as she reached a burning, mind-numbing climax…_

Just as Theresa remembered looking up at the ceiling, she could feel Ethan's lips against her neck, his tongue against her shoulder. Even though she and Fox were still in the stage of foreplay, she could suddenly feel Ethan deep inside of her, moving and thrusting, stretching and rippling waves of pleasure into her nervous system.

Blinking, the images faded. There was no Ethan. Just as she realized that it had just been a memory, Fox lifted his head from her neck and took her lips. He kissed her and she didn't deny him. She kissed him back and she tried to summon every real emotion she could. She wanted him to have this, she wanted him to be happy and she didn't want him to know that her mind was on something else; someone else.

Fox kissed hard and pushed his lips against her in a way that only told her of how bad he needed this. His tongue entered her mouth and licked against hers. As she felt the moisture, she sucked on his tongue and played against it with her own. The feeling was slippery, wet, and all too familiar to her. She had kissed her husband like that before, but yet, this was different. Almost as if separated from her body, she could barely feel what she was doing.

_She was going crazy with him being so close and yet not giving her what she needed. Ethan kissed her ravenously, his tongue deep in her mouth, plundering…_

All that was left between them were their underwear and Fox began working on that. Slipping his finger around the strap on her hip, he pulled down and shed her of everything she had left. He quickly pulled down his boxers and threw them to the side. Focusing upon the moment once more, they were both void of clothing and completely disclosed. His body was warm against hers, hard and soft at the same time. It was then that she really noticed the excitement he felt; the evidence of it clear against her leg now.

Feeling him, she knew what was coming. She didn't dread it, but at the same time, she didn't look forward to it. She'd always prided herself with knowing that she only shared something as close as making love with someone that she deeply felt for. It wasn't that she didn't have deep feelings for Fox, but rather, someone else haunted her every movement.

Flashing in her mind, she continued to see Ethan's face. She couldn't displace him from her memory even as another man touched her. Fox rubbed against her, the nerves in her spinal cord firing back and forth and causing sensations to flood over her skin. Adrenaline surged through her veins and caused the beating of her heart to quicken and pulse differently. Listening closely, pressing both her heart and her ears, she strained to listen to Fox's heart. Closing her eyes, she wanted to hear something deep within. It was then that she realized that only Ethan was able to communicate with her in that way.

She listened and she heard nothing.

_Theresa reflexively pulled her thighs apart and let his waist fall between. Ethan's heartbeat was audible now as they both recognized what was coming next. She wrapped her ankles around his calves and tried to beckon him closer…_

Shutting her eyes tightly and opening them again, she forced herself to think of something else; anything else. She couldn't think of Ethan any longer. It was a moment that her husband deserved to have with her mind simply devoted to him. But could she do it was the question she had to focus on. She could, she finally decided. She had to. As Fox lifted his head from her neck—the indication that the final moment of hesitation had come—he stared deep into her eyes. He tried to tell her everything in his heart in that single stare. He wanted her to know everything that he felt, everything he wanted her to feel, and everything he couldn't imagine feeling without her. Almost in a fleeting whisper, the soft sound that might have pulsed from his heart to hers was lost in the image of Ethan clouding her brain.

He smiled then and he once again lowered against her. Fox put his hand on her hip, sliding down to the junction of her legs and spread. She moved voluntarily, her body not able to deny the desires of the flesh that had been genetically programmed into her.

It was coming.

_Clasping against her hands again, he lowered closer to her, his chest scraping along her breasts. When he moved, Theresa could feel the hard tip touching her just at the base of her core. Quickly, before Theresa's nerves had time to respond to the intimate touch, he entered her…_

_No,_ she thought. _No more Ethan._

It was Fox. She loved Fox. She was married to Fox. That's all that mattered.

A split second was all she needed to change her focus to the man with her, the man on top of her ready to love her, from the man that was with her, that did love her, that would always love her and the man that would forever hold her heart with his. That second didn't come. All she knew, all she felt, was Ethan.

The next thing she felt was fire. Burning and all-consuming. It was fire. Deep inside her belly was a bursting flame and ignited in so much more. Fox joined their bodies and the feeling was encompassing.

_Ethan._

Fox.

_Ethan._

_Ethan. _

_Ethan._

That was her entire reality. He was all she knew, all she wanted, all she could feel. As Fox moved within her, against her, into her, and for her, all she could think of was Ethan's body. She could feel his body against hers, his muscular arms holding her, his chest pressed against her own. As he entered her for the first time, she remembered what it felt like to have her eyes roll back in pleasure. She wanted to scream and cry out in simple ecstasy in that moment.

Ethan had grabbed her hands in his, using her arms as leverage for his body to combine with hers. He'd kissed her passionately, burningly, fiercely, and desperately. She could feel his kiss against her mouth. He had pulled back and pushed back into her with a force that made the moan catch in her throat. He had kissed every inch of her body, he'd touched her in places that hadn't been so cherished in years. He made her scream. He made her want. He made her feel more intensely than anything she had ever known.

Fox.

As Theresa opened her eyes and saw Fox above her, performing the things she had imagined was Ethan a second before, she had to close her eyes again for fear that she would react. She didn't want to disappoint him. She didn't want to hurt him. Doing the only thing she could think of, Theresa closed her eyes once again. As her lashes blinked closed, she took his neck against her hand and pulled him closer. She didn't even realize it but a heavy tear fell from her eye and onto her cheek as she tried to hold on to the memory of what she and Ethan had together. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes and saw that it wasn't Ethan, her whole world would collapse. She did the only thing she could do: she shut her eyes tightly, hid her silent tear, and gave herself to her husband.

* * *

_Ethan sucked in a loud breath when he felt her shuddering orgasm current around him. Driven by a need he'd never felt before, he pulled her closer and thrust deeper and faster than he ever had. With each movement he made, Theresa's throat let loose a hard breath. Theresa watched him intently, wishing to see him in the next instant when pleasure and pain swirled into an uncontainable amount of pressure. A loud grunt filled her ears when his eyes shot open to stare into hers. His thrusts didn't cease as they held the intense gaze and suddenly, the world froze. Ethan fell into the scorching pits of desire in that instant. A loud scream came as he released himself into Theresa's warm body. He collapsed on top of her chest and laid there listening to the beating of her heart for several minutes…_

Her sleep was peaceful and sound, driven by sensuality and warmth. Moaning lightly in her throat, she fell victim to Ethan. He worshipped her with his body, showing her everything she needed to know with his hands. Her body was damp and shiny from perspiration and as it pressed against his, she felt like there could be nothing better in the world. Her eyes twitched quickly in an intense dream just as Ethan finished thrusting into her. Nothing more sating or more intense had been in her life until that point.

A smile spread her lips as he laid on her chest with open breaths. Passing in a glimpse, the dream slowly faded to black and she was hesitant to open her eyes. She didn't want to lose the image of Ethan inside of her. She wanted to know that feeling for the rest of her life.

Before she opened her eyes, she savored everything in the blackness of her lids. She remembered last night almost as if it came with a hangover. Her body was struck with an intense punch and as she swept her hand across her abdomen, she knew she was naked. She didn't want to open her eyes for fear of what she would find. She wanted to remain in her fantasy that Ethan had been with her the night before and they had made love over and over and over again until the morning sun had risen. But it wasn't so and she knew it in the back of her mind. No matter how hard she wanted to fight it, the reality crept over her like an inescapable virus.

Preparing herself for what she knew she had to do, she finally opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It was plain and painted a subtle white that glowed gray in the darkness of last night. She tried to find imperfections and studied each every inch of the ceiling. Nothing. Turning to the inevitable, Theresa looked beside her.

He was there.

Fox slept peacefully next to her, his breathing smooth and warm. As soon as Theresa fully focused on him and realized that it wasn't Ethan sleeping next to her, something deep and strong hit. Memories began flooding her mind like a river let loose from a damn. Fox had sent had sent her flowers with a note attached. He had reserved a room where he decorated with flowers and candles just for her. He'd poured her champagne and kissed her. He'd led her to the bedroom and began undressing her. He'd took her in his arms and made love to her, soft and lovingly.

She focused on the bouquet of roses that he'd sent to her office. He'd attached a note expressing his love and thankfulness for her being in his life. Celebrating three years that she had accepted his proposal, she went to the hotel and allowed herself to be put in that situation. She knew what would happen and she had the power to prevent it. Did she? No. She knew deep in her heart that Fox didn't deserve the pain she would have put him through. He deserved some kind of happiness after everything she had done.

Along with the roses, she remembered receiving the small package. She wondered if Fox had sent it to her as well. As soon as she opened the package to reveal a CD with a small note attached that read "Never Forget," she knew who it was from. She had to have. There was only one person in the world that had both heard and said those words. He was the only one that could have sent it.

Just as she focused on Ethan again, she felt dirty. She felt sick and violated with herself. She gave herself to Fox and fully knew that she would regret it. Sex could never be just sex once she knew the power and love that was given and taken when she made love to Ethan. She had shared something beautiful and life changing that night with Ethan. It was something sacred to her heart, something she would never let go of. And now, allowing Fox to touch her the way he had, to love her, to make love to her, she felt as if the memory she and Ethan had created would be erased and smudged.

Feeling the verge of tears in her eyes, Theresa turned back up the ceiling and pressed her lids shut. She swallowed hard and begged herself to contain her emotion. She couldn't cry. She would be fine. She couldn't cry… A silver tear peaked beneath her lashes and she opened her eyes before it became heavy enough to fall to her cheek.

She couldn't remain in the bed with Fox next to her for fear that she would wake him with her cries. She needed to be alone to clear her mind. She needed to throw away everything she felt and simply allow herself to be reborn in her thoughts. Finding some residual strength, she lifted herself from the bed as she sat up and held the sheet to her chest to prevent a chill to her skin. She scanned the room to find her clothes and she saw them scattered all over the floor. Laziness kept over her body and she didn't wish to move. Looking at her strewn-about clothes was just another reminder of what happened the night before and she really rather wished to push it from her mind. But she couldn't stay in the bed with Fox. Her body was taking a nauseous turn. She took in a deep breath and tried to settle her mind.

As she opened her eyes, there was a chair in the right hand corner of the room and on it she noticed a white satin robe. Readying herself, Theresa lifted herself from the bed and quickly walked over to the chair. The chill that the air brought to her naked body rose in goosebumps. She slid the robe around her shoulders and welcomed the soft feeling against her skin and a slow warmth crept on her arms. She slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and slowly walked to the bedroom door. As she stepped and took hold of the doorknob, she turned back to a sleeping Fox. He slept so soundly, his chest down with his arm spread to his side. If only he knew of the storm that twisted within her.

She tiptoed out into the hallway and took one last look at Fox before she closed the door. She let a breath fall from the back of her throat as she walked out into the hallway. The candles had all burned down to the bottom of their wicks or the puddle of melted wax had extinguished their flames. The table still sat set in the middle of the room with the open bottle of flat and warm champagne.

Theresa walked across the floor as she pulled on the tie around her waist. It fit her snuggly and gave her body graceful curves. The flowy fabric moved with her every step and hung loose around her ankles. Reaching her hand out to the table, Theresa felt the smooth glass of the fine champagne bottle against her fingers. She took one of the empty glasses on the table and poured herself some of the golden drink. There were no bubbles and no foam as she poured, but yet she had no second thoughts about drinking it. Raising the glass to her lips, she could immediately smell the sweet scent of the grapes and time that went into making the champagne. She hesitated slightly, almost as if unsure she should drink it. She tilted the glass into her mouth and felt the liquid warm her body from the inside out.

A fresh breeze blew the sheer linen to a wispy move in front of the floor-length windows. The light beyond the windows caught Theresa's eyes and she stood staring at the rays that the sun was casting. She felt odd; the brightness of the day seemed to be mocking her, almost as if it knew the inner torment she fought and still, it didn't care. The glass almost fell from her fingertips as her thoughts stirred her mind to think of other things surrounding her. Feeling the grip slipping, she once again flexed her fingers tight and pulled her hand up to take another drink. This time, instead of sipping, she tossed the remnants of the glass back in her throat. The warmth spread quickly into her body and she had serious thoughts of having another glass—she decided not to. Her mind was still too cloudy and muddled from the night before to contemplate everything clearly.

As she set the empty glass back down on the table, she once again remembered how Fox had traced a path to the bedroom with her in his arms. She felt the sudden rise of panic as his hands started to pull her closer, her dread and betrayal deep in the pit of her stomach. And then she could remember the feeling of bliss and excitement, the utter happiness and desire when she thought of Ethan and how he'd worshipped her with his body only two weeks before. She relived each and every moment and allowed her mind to wander in memories even though she was really with her husband. Even remembering the times she remembered, the vivid images swept her brain and once again, she was living that night with Ethan.

That was when the tears threatened to come again.

Every time she thought of him, every time she remembered her times with him, she couldn't help but be overcome with the dread and pain of not being with him for the rest of her life. Looking down at her hand, she saw the ring that she had grown to love with hatred. She saw it everyday, and everyday, she wondered how it would feel to live a day without it. But at the same time, she knew that by taking it off, by removing the symbol that bound her to Fox, she would in effect kill him. She couldn't bare that.

Her position, she knew, was killing two men. In choosing to stay with Fox, she was killing Ethan. If she were to choose Ethan, she would kill Fox. But there was a difference: by choosing Fox, she was also killing herself. Her dilemma was something that she lived with every single day and she knew the times were getting worse. It was very rare if she didn't have vivid and intense dreams of Ethan every night. She would close eyes to the images of him moving above her and whispering things in moans of pleasure. There were nights when she would wake and realize that the man sleeping next to her was not the one she had been wildly dreaming of and then… the nightmare would begin. The memory of how painful it was for him to rip away from her, to push her away, to leave her with nothing and make her cry—despite how rational he was being. After thinking of that, she could no longer dream about making love and screaming under ecstasy. She could only flash back to what it was like to cry. And then she did.

Pushing her palm down against the tabletop, she cursed herself for thinking of such pain. She hated reliving it and every time it got harder and harder for her to keep her composure. Her eyelids pressed closed and the thin line of water slipped through to her lash line but she forced herself not to allow enough tears to accumulate to fall. Her will could be strong, her mind could be strong, she could be strong. She just wasn't sure if her heart could be.

Finally finding the strength to move, she walked over to room she saw when she first stepped out of the elevator. She remembered seeing a small bar there and she knew that all she needed was a strong drink to push Ethan from her mind from the time being. Swiping her face with her hand, she cleaned any tears that might have fallen from her eyes and she took a suck through her nose to clear all congestion that might build up in the first stages of crying.

She reached the polished bar and found herself a short and wide glass with a stem. She put the stem between her ring and middle finger before she walked around to find the liquor with which to fill the glass. There were a few bottles of imported French wine, a small bottle of vodka, a liter of tonic water, a medium-sized bottle of gin, a fat bottle of cognac, and a bottle of brandy. Finally deciding, she realized that she wasn't in the mood for sweet, light, strong, or flavorful. She went for the latter. Grabbing the brandy by the neck of the bottle, she poured the dark brown liquid into the glass she held between her fingers and watched as the glass filled close to the brim. Deciding that she could always come back for more, she replaced the top and took her drink back into the other room.

She was about to go out to the patio when she saw her small suitcase from work. She stared at the black bag and did nothing. She debated within herself, but she found that nothing else could be more comforting to her at the moment. Careful not to spill, she reached down and opened the outside pocket of her bag. She took what she was looking for and stood back up. Turning her head, she glanced behind her and took notice of the stereo. Everything fit perfectly and she slowly walked towards it with the object she pulled from her bag in her hand. Setting her drink on the counter next to the stereo, she pressed a button and allowed the tray to open. Five circular molds spun open and finally stopped when a number two rested in the middle. Theresa took the case in her hand and held it flat in her palm. Using her other hand, she propped open the plastic lid and pulled the CD from bottom. It popped onto her index finger and she easily changed it over to the stereo.

The black cradle fit the CD perfectly and with the touch of the button she used to open the tray, it closed. She could see the disk changer move inside and then she heard the spinning. Allowing the stereo to do its job, Theresa picked up her glass from the counter and continued on her short walk out to the patio. Again, she held the stem of the glass between her fingers and she sipped the dark brown liquor. A smooth burning tingled her throat but it was a feeling she craved. More than anything, she needed a physical feeling that would distract her mind from the emotional pain that she constantly lived in—if it was even possible to mask.

Theresa had never enjoyed the smell of liquor and she had to hold her breath as she tilted the orb-like glass to her mouth. Almost sucking in air with her drink, she did her best not to savor the expensive Napoleon brandy. Instead, she tossed it back and only allowed the taste buds that couldn't avoid the liquid to taste it. She kept her eyes closed and relished in the moment that existed around her. Breaking the silence of the early morning day, the speaker came to life and the CD began to play.

Again the song played against her ears just as it had in her office just the day before. The smooth voice echoed against the first chirps of the birds and just as before, the memories pelted her like rocks. The music was loud and drowning, but still, she couldn't displace the images that invaded her brain. Everything was Ethan suddenly. Her smell, her touch, her feelings, her skin, her sight, everything was consumed by another man; a dream that had become the nightmare she lived with each and every day.

Tears threatened yet again when she thought of how it felt so right to be moving against Ethan's body, to feel his skin against her, pressed and poised, open and aroused. The song poured over her ears, draining her of all-consuming thought and pressing her to relive every touch and kiss, every whisper and caress, every moan and shake, every lick and scream. And then just like always, she remembered how it ended. Her heart had been ripped from her chest and stabbed by the only man she could imagine giving her heart to. He broke her heart, he tore her in two. Ethan had given her one of the most beautiful nights of her life and then… he just yanked it away.

And then she would remember Fox.

Just as it always happened, Fox was the second one that came to mind. The pain she caused herself was nothing to the invisible pain that Fox had yet to feel. She couldn't help the way she felt for Ethan and she knew there was no getting over it. But the fact that she acted on her love for someone that wasn't her husband, and the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about another man, killed her more than she thought imaginable.

The night before replayed in her mind like a video cursed to repeat the same few minutes over and over again. She felt Fox's hands against her skin; she could feel his kiss against her mouth. She remembered thinking that when he kissed her, her lips moved but they didn't feel anything. There was no spark, no flame, nothing to be extinguished with the water of more passion as there was with Ethan. Fox was simply there. Having the images of making love to Fox flood her mind was painful. She hated herself in that moment. Ethan's memory, his touch, had been taken by the man that shouldn't have to take anything from her. Her husband shouldn't be the one coming second in her life when it came to love.

But he did.

The lyrics pushed themselves into her brain and surged through with a fury that she couldn't explain. She could almost feel the words, so soft and meaningful, almost as if Ethan were speaking them to her right then in that instant. The words were perfect for everything that she and Ethan had gone through together. All the pain and anger and love and lust that they went through was published in that song and everything down to the last line fit them perfectly. They loved, they were broken apart, and in the end, they were only left with nothing but their memories of one another—memories that would never be forgotten.

_I'll remember you_

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_Now that is all I can do_

_But I'll remember_

She would remember. That was her curse. The love she had been given would leave her with more pain that anything else. The memories that people could only dream of making with a person they loved more than anything else would be her undoing. Tears. Pain. Torment. Crying. It was to become the cycle of her life from that point on. She took one more drink from her glass and allowed the contents to drain into her mouth with a heavy swig. Her cheeks puffed full and she pulled the glass away from her lips and slowly took the flavor of the liquid in a few swallows. She threw her head back and held her eyes closed as the first heavy tears fell from her lashes.

She felt everything around her, she was completely consumed by what existed in her surroundings. She was so caught up, Fox's steps towards her went unheard. He surprised her when he took her waist in his arms and pulled her body against his. Startled, Theresa's heart began with a fast beat and it took her a moment to process the person standing behind her.

"Good morning," Fox greeted with a happy tone in his voice and a kiss to her shoulder.

Hiding it from him quickly, Theresa let the wince pass at his action and did her best to blink as many times as she could to divert the tears. Hoping he wouldn't see, she quickly moved her hand to her face to get rid of any signs of her sadness. Theresa offered him a half smile in return and rubbed his forearm with her hand.

Fox was not so quick to dismiss the details around him. He quickly saw the empty glass in her hand and he saw the streaks on her face. "You okay?" he asked as he pulled her closed and rested his chin on her shoulder.

Again she pressed her lips into a smile and turned to face him. "Yeah…," she lied. "Just a…. bad dream." Trying to convince him, she wrapped her arms around herself and made to pull him closer.

Fox wasn't sure what to believe and all he knew was that she was drinking early in the morning, there were tearstains on her face, and he wasn't sure what he could do. Suddenly he heard the music playing from the stereo inside. The melody was nice, the music was soothing, and the lyrics were connecting inside of him. The singer conveyed the pain well in the way she sang the song. Something between to people—two lovers—needed to be remembered and the singer was promising that she would always hold the memory with her. Taking a heavy blink, Fox thought back to what he'd done to Theresa and how he'd basically arranged everything for her and Ethan. He was sure that in doing so, he would be giving her the time she needed to figure out just what and who she wanted. Still, she came home to him and had obviously made her choice. But was it the one she wanted?

"Nice song," he commented.

Theresa said nothing and nodded her head. She simply looked straight ahead to the horizon line that was soon becoming painted with the bright orange streak of the sun breaking the sky. The yellow faded upwards into the dark blue of the disappearing night sky and soon the clouds were flashed with colors. They both stood there watching the sun rise over everything else in Harmony and the beauty of the day fell over them.

"You know, Theresa… Last night was great," Fox said close to her ear, so close she could feel his breath.

Pushing her neck forwards, Theresa nodded in a hesitant manner. She tried to smile and she tried to respond with a sincere tone. "Yeah, last night…," she began, "was a night I'll never forget."

She felt him pull his arms around her tighter and she tried to make herself feel at ease in his arms; but nothing could do that. She turned back to the sky and watched as the sun took its place high in the sky and spread the colors of blue, pink, yellow, and orange.

_You will be there in my heart_

_I'll remember you_

_That is all that I can do_

_But I'll remember_

Just then, as she allowed everything around her to take in a quiet moment with her husband, the song ended with its last lyrics pounding into her soul and against her own will, another tear fell from her eye.


	9. Breaking Point

_**Chapter 8 : **_**Breaking Point**

Theresa could feel the limo coming to a rolling stop in front of her house as Harold slowed his driving. As she looked up into the driver's section, she noticed Harold smiling at her through the rearview mirror. She gave a light tug of her lips and grabbed her bag before opening the door. Just as she stepped out onto the pavement of the roundabout drive to her home, she saw a familiar car parked just ahead of the limo behind her.

The black Lexus was a shock to her. She stared at it for several moments, the black paint gleaming against the setting sun. Theresa wasn't sure if she wanted to approach the car or if she was brave enough not to. Deciding against it, and full knowing that he was probably inside, she headed for the front door. Her steps were slow and dragged, her body tired from another repetitive day at work. Just as she twisted the knob, against her own will, she could immediately feel the increase in her heart rate. She wasn't nervous, she wasn't afraid, but something inside of her always reacted in a state of panic when it came to Ethan.

River rushed to the door just as he had every other evening to retrieve her bag and usher her in. She gave him a smile and he greeted her pleasantly. She was going to ask about her husband and their guest, but thought better to avoid it all. She realized that she didn't want to deal with it all today. Frankly, it gave her a headache to think of both men of her life. To see them together in the same room was torture for her. Perhaps if she quietly went upstairs and locked herself in her office without them knowing, she might just escape the evening without having to see Ethan.

That thought stuck until River gave her the message.

"Uh, Mrs. Crane?" he called to her attention. She tore her glance away from the staircase and looked back to him. "Mr. Crane is in the library. He asked me to let you know he was waiting for you."

"He is?" she asked surprised. "Did he say what it was about?"

"Sorry, no, Mrs. Crane. Mr. Winthrop is here. Perhaps it has something to do with him." Almost slapping his mouth, River scurried along. He knew very well that something was off between the married couple of the house and just as everyone else did, he knew the history between Ethan and Theresa. Besides, he had seen a few glances between them and he had even witnessed the emotional exchange between the two just outside the house.

Theresa's stomach did a flip flop at River's words. While no one knew the full extent of what had happened between her and Ethan in the more recent weeks, it was no secret that the feelings once harbored for him were never gone. Everyone knew. Even Fox. Every scenario played through her mind as she stepped to the staircase and took each stair with care and ease. Grabbing the rail on her left, she pulled herself upstairs and tried not to focus on the worst that she expected to find.

Finally finding herself just outside the library, Theresa slowed and listened for any tension between the two men before she entered. She heard a mention about another contract, something about deposits needed. That was when she realized that it was all business and she felt relief instantly. Clearing her throat and putting the face that usually came with walking into her own home, she turned into the doorway and surveyed the room quietly. Fox and Ethan sat side by side on the couch, Ethan pointing to something on a sheet of paper with his pen and Fox looking intently.

Just seeing him made her heart skip into a frenzy of sporadic rhythms. Theresa had to continue reminding herself to act normally, to breathe, to remain calm, to focus. It was a lot harder than she thought it would be. Ethan, as if feeling her presence, immediately looked up at her. His eyes locked with hers and for an instant, they were alone. They said nothing; they didn't have to. Her heart rate continued to climb and she almost felt that she would have a young heart attack from the mixture of emotions and stress.

Noticing Ethan no longer paying attention, Fox looked up as well and smiled. The smile burned into Theresa and she did her best to take her eyes from Ethan and focus on her husband with a smile.

"There she is," Fox beamed. He put the paper he was looking at down on the table in front of him before turning back up to her. "Listen," he began as he rose from the couch, "Ethan's helping me do some legal stuff for Crane. Since he's here, I was thinking that you two should probably get to work on that new design stuff for his firm." He stopped, allowing her to process and accept even though he really didn't leave her much choice. Walking towards her, her reached out his arms and held her shoulders, waiting for her reply.

"Sure," she nodded.

"Great," Fox responded. Again he smiled as he continued rubbing her arms. "Ethan," he turned back to his brother, "you game?"

Ethan looked as if he were a trapped animal on display. He really had no choice. Besides, even though that would mean he would have to talk to Theresa and act in a platonic manner, Fox would be there and he wouldn't be able to give in to his tempting thoughts anyway. "Yeah, sounds good," he replied.

"Perfect, then I'll leave you two to start on that fun stuff and I'll go start dinner." He gave Theresa a smile before kissing her cheek.

As soon as Fox spoke, Theresa's mouth opened in protest. The last thing she needed after a long day was to be stuck in a room alone with Ethan. She was sure she would go insane. "Well, I'll go help you," Theresa volunteered.

Fox looked down at her quizzically. "Since when? No, you stay here and take care of that stuff. It'll only take about half an hour or so."

"Uh, Fox, I don't think I can stay that long," Ethan lied. "I have more work to do at home."

Inside, Fox was having a ball. He knew exactly why the both of them were struggling to get out of it but he would play ignorant and trap them. "Oh, no you don't, bro. You're staying. Look, it's simple. You and Theresa work on that stuff while I make dinner and when I'm done, you enjoy my company and delicious food and then you leave. You can spare an hour for your brother, now, can't you?"

The guilt worked and Fox knew it, too. There was really nothing Ethan could say to change Fox's mind about it all. He was stuck. "I guess I can stay…," he gave in hesitantly."

"I knew you'd see things my way," Fox smiled. Again, he leaned down and kissed Theresa before he exited the library and once again, Ethan and Theresa were left alone with nothing but a silent stare between the both of them.

Ethan let his eyes turn about the room, his fingers unconsciously toying with the pen in his hand. Theresa stared at his actions and wondered why this had all of sudden become so difficult. Finally, Ethan was able to gather the courage he wanted and he looked up at her. Theresa stared back at him and she fidgeted with her arms. She was anxious, nervous, and confused. Neither knew what to do or what to say. They hadn't spoken or seen each other face to face since they were together in his apartment. Now that his eyes were boring into her, Theresa felt stupefied and completely without guard. She hated the feeling and she wanted to get away from it as soon as possible. Without another thought, Theresa turned quick on her heel and left the library without a word.

"Theresa," Ethan called after finally finding his voice. He rose from the couch and made his way to the hallway and found her trying in haste to get away from him. "Theresa," he called again. She made no move to stop and continued down the hallway. Finally catching up to her, Ethan gently pulled her arm towards him in an attempt to make her stop.

As she felt his hand touch her skin, she reacted instantly and pulled her arm from his grasp. Just as she turned to face him, she turned her emotions away and tried her best to strike anger in her eyes against him. Ethan noticed the way she almost flinched when he touched her and he put his hands up in a surrender gesture as if to apologize.

"Can we talk?" he asked softly.

Theresa didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do. Whenever it came to him, she always felt at a loss. Instead of answering his question, she simply let out an exhale and waited for him to begin. She blinked in annoyance, her patience waning in her agitation. "What, Ethan?" she finally asked.

Ethan had noticed that she was on edge, seemingly uncomfortable around him and very frustrated. Fidgeting and taking a look down, he finally spoke. "Uh… how are you?"

Theresa stared him down, surprised at his question. She didn't have the time or the resistance to make small talk with him. Just being around him was enough to cloud her mind. Crossing her arms in a protective and annoyed manner, Theresa almost let out a laugh. "I'm fine."

Ethan looked up slowly, a smile spread on his lips quickly and then he looked back down. He was nervous and confused. Again looking at her, he opened his mouth to speak but didn't know what to say. Theresa almost felt embarrassed for him. Trying to save herself the temptation and him his dignity, she chose to walk away before it got worse. With a small nod, Theresa turned and continued her quick walk down the hallway.

"Theresa, wait," he tried after her. Again, his hand was on her arm and she felt the same fever spread throughout her skin. "Tell me what to do. I don't know what to do here."

Her voice was soft and reluctant when she spoke. "About what?"

Ethan took a deep exhale through his nose. "About this. About us, Theresa."

"There is no us, Ethan. My husband's downstairs in case you forgot." Her position was firm, unshaken, and without repose. Ethan tried again to reach out and touch her arm, hoping to reassure her of the connection they shared that continued right in front of her despite her will to ignore it. Seeing Ethan's quick motion forward, Theresa flinched and pulled her arm out of reach. "Don't." Instead of allowing him the opportunity to impose his touch on her even more, she decided against all temptation. She turned quickly and began towards the stairs.

"We made love, Theresa," he said only loud enough for her to hear.

Her leg was still in midair when she stopped moving, her step frozen by his words. When she turned around to face him, his eyes were down to the floor, his own shame keeping him from even looking at her. "No," she whispered.

Carefully turning back up to her, his voice still hadn't changed from a whisper. "And it was incredible…"

Swallowing a mounting lump in her throat, she managed to speak quietly. "No," she whispered again.

Almost as if he hadn't heard her, he continued reliving the night they were at his apartment. "The way you felt in my arms…"

"Stop it." Still, while her temper and her fear were rising, her voice stayed soft. Her eyes were becoming brimmed with shiny redness as he spoke.

"When our bodies were together, I felt like…."

"Stop it." When she spoke this time, her voice had grown steadily louder.

"When I heard you moaning beneath me, I thought—"

"Stop it!" When she said it this time, Ethan stopped speaking. He opened his eyes and the flashes of memories stopped. He looked at her and realized that it was as if her face was contorted in pain as she tried to push the memories away from her mind.

When she opened her eyes, she saw his eyes staring back at her and she immediately looked down. At his words, she had remembered every touch and every sigh as if she hadn't lived with them every day since they happened. Her breathing rate had escalated in her effort to repress her feelings and she tried to refocus herself.

"We made love, Theresa," Ethan whispered again.

"No," she said as she turned back to him.

"Yes, Theresa," he said as she walked closer to him.

"We made love and I—"

"No, Ethan," She said sternly. "It doesn't matter what happened. _You're_ the one that walked out, remember? You broke _my _heart." Ethan stared at her, his heartbreak and regret evident in his eyes. "Besides, what we shared wasn't…. It was sex. In order to make love, there has to be love. And we—"

"What are you saying?" She stared up at him intensely, stuck in her own words. Ethan was shocked, his tense stare frozen on hers. He took a step closer to her before speaking. "Tell me you don't love me." He was close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek.

Theresa took a stare down and she tried to pretend that Ethan wasn't so close to her. "I—" And then he was kissing her. It wasn't possible to fight and Theresa took hold of him, pulling her body close to his, his head against hers.

Ethan wrapped his arms around her small waist, his hands quickly pulling at her behind to bring her closer than she was. When she felt his hands under her hair massaging her scalp, she thought she could die happy. The moment was terribly arousing for both of them and the next thing they knew, they fell hard against the wall behind Theresa. Both not paying attention to anything else but each other, they barely heard a vase fall next to them and shatter across the floor.

His kiss sent waves of fire throughout her body and made every nerve tingle with intense anticipation. No more was her mind clouded with responsibility and doubt; nothing else mattered to her but the moment with Ethan in front of her. She could feel his tongue against her front teeth and immediately she opened her mouth more, taking his tongue against hers and sucking on his lips. Ravaged with sexual tension, Theresa pulled Ethan's shirt free from his pants, eager to rake her hands across his skin. Almost ripping the buttons from their seams, she yanked the fabric from his beltline and traced over the lines of his torso and indentions of his hips. Ethan felt his abdomen muscles flutter when she ran her hands along the front of his stomach. Everything she did only caused more blood to rush downward.

As Ethan pressed his body closer to hers, she could feel his building desire and she slid her hand from his back to the front of his pants. As soon as Ethan felt her claw her hand around his straining erection, he broke the kiss in a heavy sigh, quick and uncontrolled. Distracting himself and telling himself to last as long as possible, he felt her breast, the soft orb of flesh welcoming to his touch.

Pushing her blazer behind her shoulders, he tossed it down to the floor and pulled her neckline down across her chest. Ethan pulled the cover of her bra away to reveal her eager and pointed nipple. Refusing to waste time, he pawed her flesh before putting it to his mouth. He sucked and pulled and bit at her with expertise, just the way he knew she liked. Theresa's head fell back against the wall and she closed her eyes to savor more of the feeling. Her hand had stopped its ministrations against him in her inability to concentrate and the other fell to the nape of his neck. She pressed him on and encouraged his actions. Ethan continued and his other hand found her other breast, teasing and tweaking until he heard a moan escape her throat. Every time she felt his lips tug on her nipple, she felt a surge of electric heat speed through her spine all the way down to her toes.

Ethan pulled Theresa's waist closer to him as her pleasure began pulling her back. Making his way back up, Ethan mouthed at her neck, her hands goading him on. Theresa's mind was white. Empty. She had no thoughts, only feelings. She wanted Ethan. She wanted to feel him inside her, completing her. And then she stopped.

"No, wait," she said breathlessly. She pushed Ethan away, her chest heaving and her spine still tingling. Ethan stared at her confused. She'd gotten him worked up and now she was going to stop? "We can't do this," she assured.

"Yes," he nodded, "yes, we can." Ethan didn't care anymore. He walked slowly to her and pulled her against him roughly. "I want you," he rasped against her neck. It was almost enough to send her into a dizzying inability to deny him.

She felt his hard body against her, his muscular chest and strong arms. She felt his smooth stomach and his aching groin and her body was flooded with desire. "I know you want this," he whispered against her skin.

And she did. Even if it was on the cold marble floor, all she wanted in that moment was to rip off their clothes and finish what they started. She wanted to see and feel every part of his body. She wanted to see the look in his eyes as he first entered her. She wanted to hear the harsh and exasperated sounds of their bodies fighting together. She wanted Ethan to take her, make her his and feel him all the way into her stomach. She wanted to scream and shake from orgasms that started before another finished. She wanted to feel Ethan's hips thrusting against her. She wanted Ethan. She wanted him. But she couldn't. Ethan was tempting her again and his hand was beginning to unzip her skirt.

"Wait, wait, wait," Theresa insisted. This time she walked away from the wall so he couldn't trap her. "What are we doing, Ethan?" He got a devilish look in his eyes as if to say that he was just about to show her. "Nothing's changed," she insisted. "You're the one that said we couldn't do this because I'm married to Fox."

He took a step towards her as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. Quickly stopping him, Theresa rose her left hand to show him the symbol that stopped them. Ethan continued the final steps towards her as one of his hands reached forward. Theresa was sure he'd grab her hand to look at the ring that had become their chastity belt. But he didn't. Instead, Ethan's hand moved past her hand and he took yet a step closer to her. Dizzying her mind with his nearness, Ethan slowly traced his fingertips along the bare skin of her shoulder down to her elbow. Theresa's head spun and her breathing hitched.

"Theresa," he whispered deep. Her eyes were still closed and he hadn't lifted his touch from her. "Theresa," he whispered again. "Do you remember what you said to me?" He ran his hand up to her shoulder again and allowed his middle finger to graze up to her neck, slowly inching to her jaw line. "Before…," he continued. "When I told you that I was married to Gwen…" Ethan's finger curved down to the hollow point between her collarbones.

Theresa's breathing skipped again. "I—I said—I said that—," she tried, unable to concentrate. Ethan smiled to himself as he hid a wince of pain; she had no idea what she was doing to him. As Theresa tried to speak again, Ethan drew his finger down to her chest, rubbing the area between her breasts slowly. "I said—"

"You said you didn't care," he whispered. " 'As long as I have you, as long as I know that you love me, I don't care,' " he quoted the words she'd said to him only three years ago. "I don't care about Fox right now, Theresa. I care about you… and me… and I'm not gonna fight it anymore. Are you?"

He waited for a response and all he got was a dark stare full of desire. Expertly teasing her, he flicked his finger over her tight nipple and watched her eyelids flicker. She was melting. "Are you?" he asked again. Waiting for no response, he quickly kissed the spot that proved any woman putty: her neck right under the bottom of her ear. "Are you?" His whisper brushed her skin intensely. Grabbing her entire breast in his hand he heard a moan and he knew he'd broken her. Pulling back to look at her, Ethan ran his hand beneath her shirt and slid his palm across the ridges of her ribs. "I didn't think so," he answered for her. Before she could say anything—if she had wanted to—they were kissing.

Lust-thirsty, both Ethan and Theresa sent doubts and questions away. It was easier to embrace what they wanted despite the consequences. Quickly both of their minds thought of where they could go to continue their task. Theresa immediately thought of her room, but soon thought better of it. It was enough that she was married and her husband was in the same house. She couldn't add cheating on him in their bed on top of it all. Ethan didn't mind where they were. He just wanted Theresa no matter where they did it.

It wasn't something she could fight anymore. It wasn't something she wanted to fight anymore. Everything surrounding her was screaming to allow it to happen… again. Her heart was beating fast and Ethan was making it pound. His hand moved up to cup her breast and their kiss broke with a deep sigh. Theresa wanted more and her desire was straining and tingling over her entire body. Ethan looked down and watched as Theresa quickly tore her arms through the sleeves. Sending him a smile with her lashes low, Theresa pushed herself close to him. Ethan welcomed her close to his body. As Theresa pulled his blazer from shoulders, Ethan reached around her and unclasped her bra. He quickly removed it from her body and again took to teasing her nipples. Theresa felt the fire igniting within her and kissed Ethan's neck. Sliding her tongue to his Adam's apple, Theresa sucked against his skin and Ethan felt his groin jump with a quiver. Theresa knew what she was doing to him and she loved it.

Pushing back slightly, Theresa grabbed his hand and kissed his lips softly. "Come with me," she whispered. Theresa took a step to the library and as she walked, she dropped her skirt and pushed the shirt around her waist to the floor as well.

Ethan followed her back into the library and watched with starving eyes as her tan skin was revealed to him. There was so much he could take and it seemed as if she was trying to drive him within the limits of his sanity. Ethan went to her and took her naked body against him.

"Ethan…" the way his name sounded as it came from her mouth in moments full of passion never ceased to drive him crazy. He had to have her.

Walking with her against him while their tongues sparred, they fell against the couch he'd just sat on with Fox only minutes before. Theresa's legs wrapped around him and Ethan's head was spinning. Tracing his hand down her side, past her hip, and around to the front of her pelvis, Ethan teased her agonizingly. Theresa knew what he was going to do and she kissed him hard to let him know it was more than all right. Ethan needed no permission and he pushed his middle finger fully inside of her. Theresa's fire exploded as his finger slid in and out of her roughly.

Their kiss broke as Theresa moaned beneath him. Ethan wanted to go deeper but the junction of his knuckles prevented him. Instead, Ethan took her nipple in his mouth and sucked tightly. As his finger grew slippery and wet, all Ethan could think about was the feeling he would get when he entered himself inside of her. The sounds coming from Theresa grew louder and Ethan felt himself growing harder. Turning his palm up, Ethan pushed deep and bent his finger inside of her, trying to reach the point that would make her mind flash white hot.

Theresa's back arched high off the couch and she moaned her pleasure. She was close and her abdominal muscles began to flutter. The quivering in her body made her breathing shaky. It was powerful and Ethan could feel how strong the currant was. His finger had reached the proper point and suddenly the gray area of pleasure and pain was crossed. Theresa bucked and she tried to pull his hand away as the sensations rolled over her in waves of panic. Her hips swayed but Ethan wanted to bring her to the point of ecstasy despite her protests. Fighting to keep his finger inside of her, Ethan pushed faster and deeper and then her body contracted in a freeze as she came. Her eyes were shut, her skin was flushed, her body was moist, and her breathing was shallow.

Ethan was satisfied with himself as he saw her body explode inwardly. He placed a kiss on her clavicle and watched as she calmed slowly. Smiling, Theresa welcomed him on top of her and let out a small laugh when she felt him kiss her skin; only Ethan could make her feel something so intensely.

"How do you feel?" Ethan asked. Theresa smiled again and wandered her hand down inside his pants. She grabbed him and slowly ran her hand up and down with careful focus to squeeze the tip.

"Good," Theresa answered his question.

"Good," he repeated. "Good…"

His lip quivered and he sucked it behind his teeth as she stroked him. Ethan's neck kept bobbing up and down as his concentration faltered. He took in deep breaths of air and put his palm against her cheek. His thumb traced her lips and entered her mouth. Theresa smiled and took his finger into her mouth where she sucked and toyed with it with her tongue. Ethan couldn't hold on any longer and with another squeeze of Theresa's hand, he came. He melted into Theresa's palm and groaned deep in his throat. He took in sharp breaths between his teeth to calm himself and collapsed against the woman beneath him.

"You're incredible," Theresa sighed. They laughed together and began kissing again, their fire not nearly ready to be extinguished.

"Theresa," her name was called. Both Ethan and Theresa froze, stopping their movements and kissing, as they heard Fox's voice. "Dinner'll be ready in about five." By the distant sound of his voice, they could tell that he was speaking from at least the bottom of the staircase in the foyer.

"Okay," Theresa responded loud enough for Fox to hear.

Ethan looked down at Theresa, her copper brown eyes staring deep into his. They were both scared, the rapid and stuttered beating of their hearts evidence enough. And they hated it. Something began that moment that they'd kissed in the rain on the wharf; something that would continue to linger over them. The feeling pulled their vocal cords in silence and filled their lungs with guilty breath. They hated the feeling… but it wasn't nearly as strong as how much they hated being without each other. In moments together, when all that mattered to them was each other's satisfaction, their guilt was forgotten and Fox didn't exit.

"What do we do now?" Ethan asked. The words need to be spoken, they were screaming inside her throat, but they were too hard to say almost as if laced in daggers, they cut her tongue.

Ethan's weight was still above her, but somehow managing without words, she found a way to get off the couch. Standing, Theresa went to retrieve her skirt and her bra. Pulling her skirt up around her waist and zipping it behind her, she turned to Ethan, her eyes full of unanswered questions.

"What are we doing?" she asked as she clasped the bra around her waist. Ethan watched her spin the bra to the front and slip her arms through the straps as her breasts filled the cups as it was to be worn. "What are we doing, Ethan?" she asked again.

"Theresa, you said—"

"No, Ethan. I mean, my god, Fox is downstairs. I must be losing my mind."

Ethan huffed out a strong sigh as he, too, began putting his clothes back on. "Theresa, please—we can't—we shouldn't—we should just tell Fox."

Theresa laughed as she pulled her shirt over her head. "Tell Fox what, Ethan? That I've cheated on him? That, despite everything he's done for me, I'm still incapable of loving him that way?"

"It's a good place to start, Theresa."

Theresa wiped her eyes before staring at him intensely. "Don't ask me to do that."

Ethan buttoned up his shirt and pushed the ends into his pants. "You love me," he stated fiercely. "You want to be with me. You—"

"I'm _married_ to your brother," she cut him off. "He doesn't deserve this, Ethan."

"No? He deserves you lying to him?"

"Ethan, stop. Please." She took a long pause and pleaded with him with her eyes "Fox is downstairs. He's my husband. And he loves me." Her eyes were shiny, sad, and strong. It killed her to say those things but she knew she had to.

"Yeah," Ethan sighed.

"Dinner's ready." Fox called from the bottom of the staircase.

With a last look, Theresa turned and began walking downstairs. Ethan stayed in the library and watched as the woman he loved left. He turned back to the couch and watched as if the past few minutes replayed like a movie. Theresa moaned and shook beneath him, her legs opening wider and higher to allow his finger deeper access. He could still feel her skin on his fingertips. Her scent still lingered on his hand. The dark look in her eyes as he spilled into her grasp haunted him and he knew that he'd need many cold showers in the days to come. He took one last look at the couch and made sure everything was buttoned before putting on his company face and going downstairs.

Just as Ethan walked through the short hallway that led to the kitchen, he could hear the gentle mewling of Fox and Theresa. Walking into the kitchen, he saw them embraced in a kiss. Fox had Theresa pinned against the counter with his hands at both her sides. Watching them together, it was as if he and Theresa hadn't shared that moment in the library and a part of him fell away. In moments when he saw Fox and Theresa together, he could feel part of his heart dying in despair. He often wondered if Theresa told him the truth when she was with him; did she love him? His doubts plagued his mind and then… he would remember her. He'd remember her tears and her pain, her heart and the way it spoke to him. He would remember the fear and torture that he saw glisten in her eyes. He didn't need to see her cry to know the anguish her soul was in and he knew that everything he felt was mirrored in her own heart.

He cleared his throat to politely interrupt them and stopped short in front of the table. Theresa immediately broke free from Fox and looked up at Ethan. She knew that it must have hurt him to see her with Fox, and it hurt her knowing that she hurt him. Ethan looked at her, his silence proof enough that she had cut him deeply with a single image of her kissing her husband. There was one thing she now knew for sure: it was getting too much to bear and she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to continue the charade with both men.

As the three sat down to dinner, Fox smiled both outward and inwardly. He not only enjoyed the game he unconsciously played with both of them, but he knew that everything that happened between them was without saying. The silent and tortured glances between them—despite how hard they must have tried to avoid them—did not go without notice.

"So did you two figure something out?" Fox asked as both Ethan and Theresa began cutting at their plates. Theresa immediately looked up, the question not seeming to make any sense to her. Ethan stopped eating as if he were waiting for Theresa to answer for him as well. "Did you think of any ideas for his new layout?" Fox asked Theresa.

"Oh, right. The layout…." Theresa understood finally. She took a quick sip from her wine and looked back up to her husband. "Um… well, it… uh… takes time and I have to… consult some things at work…"

Again Fox smiled to himself. He enjoyed seeing her so completely nervous when it came to Ethan. In a way, everything she felt and everything she went through was in a way what he considered payback for the years of what he had finally realized were only lies.

Ethan and Theresa spoke minimally and Fox watched them silently, wondering if they were somehow sending each other messages in their silence. As he looked to his wife, he couldn't help but be overcome with how powerfully he loved her. And when he looked at his brother, the same feeling—the contempt and jealousy—consumed him. Ethan had always won and took whatever he wanted. In the back of his mind, Fox wanted to assure himself that Ethan wouldn't take his own wife from him. But at the same time, Fox denied any possibility that she was never really his in the first place.

Their dinner had come to an end and Theresa smiled her approval of the meal. "Well, Fox," Ethan sighed with a full stomach, "I never would have thought that being raised with a personal cook would produce a chef."

Fox smiled as he took the last swallow from his wine glass. "Cooking was always a passion of mine," Fox confessed.

Ethan let out a soft chuckle. "Since when?"

"When I was home from school," Fox began, "I used to sneak downstairs and make breakfast before Cook woke up." Fox held his wine glass in the palm of his hand, the stem between his middle and ring finger. There was a single purple drop of wine left as the bottom and Fox watched it sway when he moved his hand.

"That's impossible," Ethan stated. "Cook always made my favorite quiche tarts when we were home from school."

Even though, seemingly threatened, Fox's expression didn't change. He just continued to watch the deep purple trail swirl around the glass. "Do you remember my girlfriend Gabrielle?" Ethan tilted his head to help recall the name. "Tall, slender, dark brown hair, blue eyes," Fox described.

"Oh…," Ethan said as his mind grabbed hold of her memory. "The French girl you dated your… sophomore year? The one that looked like she belonged in a fashion magazine?"

"She's a model for… uh… some high designer now," Fox confessed. "Her grandmother owned a bistro-style café in Paris. Quiche tarts were her specialty."

Ethan looked as though someone had just told him that his car was really a very large goat. "_You_ made the tarts?" Ethan asked. "I thought Cook made them."

"I allowed him to take the credit," Fox explained. "Father would have disapproved of my taking part in 'an activity of those below me.' "

"I never would have thought…" Ethan trailed off in disbelief.

"No," Fox smiled, "you wouldn't have. You always underestimated me, half-bro," he said looking up at him. Fox turned his eyes quickly to Theresa who he'd almost forgotten was there. She passed him a sympathetic look before he looked back to Ethan. "You still do."

Ethan hadn't missed the look from Theresa to himself and he quickly panicked, wondering if Fox could possibly know. "Well," Ethan cleared his throat, "I'll never underestimate your cooking skills again." They were all silent for what seemed a very long time.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," sighed Fox as he stood up. Just as he placed his empty glass in the sink, River slowly walked into the dining room.

"Excuse me," he started. "But there's a call for Mrs. Crane." Theresa nodded and looked to her husband as if asking permission.

"Oh, go 'head," allowed Fox. "Me and Ethan are gonna have a drink and catch up." Theresa looked inquisitively to Ethan, scared of leaving the two of them alone. "Right, half-bro?"

Ethan reassured her with his eyes that he would be fine. Theresa finally left the room to answer the phone in her office and Ethan and Fox headed to the bar in the parlor. Fox poured himself and Ethan a glass of bronzed liquid and led his brother out to the porch in the back of the large house. Ethan took a deep swig of the liquor he'd been given. With a pleasure-filled wince, he drank it down and felt it burn down to his stomach.

"This is good. What is it?" Ethan asked.

"Cognac. French-imported." The copper liquid shined up at Ethan and he drank the smooth burn and relished the taste.

"Very good."

"I have another bottle inside. You can have it if you want," Fox offered.

"Thanks," Ethan said still savoring the drink. "It's really beautiful out here," Ethan said suddenly wishing to end the weird silence between them. The gardens were lit with flood lights and there were two fountains going.

"There's something I wanted to ask you," Fox said. He took a drink and stared out at the moon. The cognac flowed down his esophagus and sated his palette. Drinking the same beverage as his grandfather, Fox understood why Alistair had always insisted that Imperial was the best.

Ethan had been looking at Fox, waiting for him to ask this question of his. The time that Fox was taking to collect his thoughts had Ethan panicking inwardly. "You want to ask me something?" Ethan pushed.

Slowly taking a swallow, Fox swished the liquor in his mouth and savored the moment around him. "Mmmm," he nodded. "It's about Theresa." As soon as Fox had revealed the subject, he turned to Ethan to watch every torturous expression.

Ethan had paused in taking his next drink and seemed to freeze. Fox looked over to him and Ethan had to do everything in his power to not explode with the truth. Instead, he feigned control and did his best acting job. "Theresa? What about her?"

"Has she said anything?" Fox finally asked. "Has she mentioned anything to you… about me?"

Ethan couldn't be sure where Fox was going with his questions and they were beginning to make him uneasy. "No…," Ethan searched his mind. "What about you?"

Fox let the question float through the air between them, allowing the tension to build within Ethan's chest. He took another drink of the fine liquor and sighed before he spoke next. "I'm afraid I don't make her happy," Fox admitted.

Ethan was shocked at the revelation. He didn't expect that to be thrown something like that. All the worse, guilt poured over him like a rainfall, pelting at his insides as if hail. Something in the way Fox spoke so randomly of the subject told Ethan that somehow, while silent of the issue, Fox knew more than he was letting on.

"And I know it's weird considering you two were once extremely involved, but I'm just afraid that one of these days, she's going to look for what I can't give her in someone else." The defeated and solemn look that Ethan had seen in front of his parents when he was being glorified before his little brother came back. He wished he didn't have to see the pain in Fox's eyes as he spoke of his fear. "I feel like… I feel like I'm losing her," Fox confessed slowly.

Ethan almost choked. It was all his fault. Yes, he loved Theresa but above all, he felt guilty in seeing his brother so torn and battered before him. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? The only things that came to his mind were admissions and confessions as he spilled out what his heart felt. In a way, while Ethan did feel remorse for what was happening between Theresa and himself, in a way he just wanted the whole thing to be over. He wanted to just tell Fox that they loved each other and that he was the only person that could make her happy.

But he didn't.

"I don't understand," Ethan lied.

Fox searched his mind for the words, the right words. He had decided that he would play the game while he could. Nothing he felt was a certainty, but at the same time, he was no fool. But he knew that there would come a time when the truth would spill out without anyone's authority and that day all would be set free. That day, Fox knew, would be the unraveling end for them all. That day was coming soon enough; he would not force it along. Fate had its own way of situating things in purpose.

"She hasn't mentioned… anything?" Fox pressed. "I know things were different with you and her but I feel something…. I can't explain it. I just feel like when she looks at me, she's hoping I was someone else."

"I'm sure that's not true," Ethan interjected quickly.

Fox said nothing and examined Ethan closely. He had defended Theresa's feelings immediately. Whether it was because Ethan knew it was true or because he knew it wasn't, Fox couldn't be sure. "But she hasn't mentioned anything to you?" Fox asked again. Ethan looked back at him with an empty stare. "Normally, I'd go to Whitney with this sort of thing, but it's different. Theresa knows that Whitney and I are really close and if she were having an affair—"

"Fox, no—"

"If she were having affair," Fox continued against his brother, "I think she'd be too afraid to let Whit in on all the details for fear of me finding out. Right?" Ethan didn't respond. He was caught, too stunned for words. Fox had figured them out. "Did you hear her say anything…? I just—I've thought of just asking her but what if I'm wrong? I can't accuse her of something when it's just a feeling I get when she's around me."

"What do you mean a feeling?" Ethan asked curiously.

Fox continued to examine his thoughts, his feelings, and his plans. "It's just… sometimes I get the feeling that she doesn't even want to look at me." At his words, Ethan's heart jumped. While he knew that what he and Theresa had partaken in with each other was wrong, he still felt elated that she and her husband were seemingly not on the physical layer anymore. It pleased him to know that he wasn't sharing her.

"We made love not too long ago," Fox continued. And then Ethan's chest caved. His heart hurt in its hollow as he said the words he'd most dreaded. "She just seemed… not into it," Fox said. "She didn't say anything, but I could tell that she held back without even knowing it." As Fox explained his recent sexual activities with Theresa, Ethan felt sick. He felt as if he were listening in on a conversation that was never meant for his ears. "I don't know…. I know it's strange to ask, but do you think you can just let me know if she mentions anything? You know, when you two are taking care of the new design. I just want to be sure either way, you know?"

Ethan nodded silently, guilt and distaste rising in his throat. "Sure."

The two brothers stood there in silence for a few minutes before Ethan realized that disdain for himself was building strongly. He hated seeing what he did to Fox and he hated knowing what Theresa went through on a daily basis. There was no perfect solution to everything and he was beginning to get a better understanding why he couldn't just ask Theresa to divorce Fox and run away with him. It would be the lowest blow to ever have been stricken on the poor, unsuspecting Fox.

Theresa finished her short call with Patrick, head of interior design. According to him, a crisis had ensued with the mismatching of pillows for a huge client. It took Theresa several minutes to calm him down and in the end, she had managed to reassure him that his color fiasco would not get him fired. In being so concentrated on the frantic Patrick, Theresa had almost forgotten about Ethan and Fox.

She wondered what they could be talking about and as she was flooded with fear at the thought. She made her way back to the kitchen and out onto the patio where she found both men with glasses in their hands. Ethan, upon seeing her, had a trapped look on his face, almost scared. Fox on the other hand, seemed pleased. Theresa approached them quietly, waiting for either of them to say something. Fox stared at her and then he stared at Ethan. They were all uncomfortable.

"Well," Ethan sighed, "I guess I should get going…" He wasn't sure what else to say or do and escaping seemed like the only good idea coming to him. "I have an early day tomorrow."

Fox exchanged a knowing look with his brother and then the three of them turned to walk back inside. They entered the kitchen and as soon as Ethan and Fox placed their empty glasses on the table, River ran back into the room.

"Sorry to interrupt again," he apologized, "but there's a call for you, Mr. Crane. It's Corporate."

Ethan looked at Fox as if to let him know that he would wait for him to finish his call, but Fox didn't mind. "Sweetheart," he called to his wife. "You can walk him out, right? Ethan, I'll send you that bottle, okay?" He didn't wait for a response from either of them and proceeded to walk out of the kitchen and back up to the library to take his call.

With Fox and River gone, Ethan and Theresa were left alone in the kitchen. She refused to look at him, afraid that something else she couldn't afford would happen. She knew he was looking at her from across the room, but she had to pull herself away. Trying her hardest, she quickly looked up at him as she addressed him.

"Well, I'll… uh… show you out," she said meekly, quickly turning back away from him.

Ethan retrieved his briefcase and followed Theresa to the front door. He wasn't sure what to say to her to ease her pain. He wasn't sure what she needed to hear and he wasn't sure what he needed to say. Fox's words were still ringing in the back of his mind and he couldn't fight the guilt that continued to creep over his body.

Theresa held the door open as he passed through but she surprised him when she closed the door behind her and followed him out to his car. They said nothing as they approached his black car and she walked close to him. He stopped when he reached the driver's side and dropped his briefcase next to his feet. She stared at the ground at her feet and he looked at her intensely. She was nervous, almost afraid to be around him. She started to realize that she couldn't trust herself around him and that thought was unnerving. Finally gathering the courage, she looked up at him and he stared down at her with the same look he'd given her in the library only a short time ago. Those were the eyes that could seduce her and lure her with one glance, that could flood her body with desire with one blink, that could drive her wild with the fiery blue that she saw in them.

Ethan tried to read her expression, but all he saw was the same face that he'd seen beneath him in the library, the same hair that spun in his fingers, the lips that he'd kissed, the skin he'd grazed with his fingertips and suddenly, he only wanted her. Smiling lightly, Ethan leaned in close to her mouth and parted his lips. He was about to kiss her when she put her hands to his chest to push him away. She took a step back in protest and she had to tell herself that she couldn't despite her body's desire.

"We can't," she explained. "What if Fox is watching?"

Ethan understood and allowed her to get away without giving him at least a kiss. His entire body was igniting again. Being near her was torture just as it felt like oxygen. They were still close and even though he couldn't feel her tongue against his, even though he couldn't taste her breath, he still needed to feel her against him. He pulled her body to his and she fell on his shoulder, her hands pressed against him tightly, her eyes closed to envelope the moment in her mind.

Still against his shoulder, Theresa turned her head to make her voice audible. "Ethan, maybe we shouldn't do this."

"What?" he asked.

"This." Even though he knew exactly to what she was referring, he couldn't pry himself away from her. "Fox is a good man. He'd never do anything to hurt me. I just hate the idea of doing this to him."

Ethan said nothing for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. "What about me? What about us?" The way he spoke, the tone in his voice, broke her heart, but she had to be strong. There was nothing more that she wanted than to be with him, but she knew it was impossible.

"I can't…." Theresa took a step back and pulled herself away from him. She looked down to avoid his eyes next. "I'm just afraid that we'll cause more damage in the end."

"Are you saying that you don't want to be with me?" Ethan asked sadly. In a way, he knew the answer. He'd always known the answer. He just needed to hear her say it. Above all else, he'd learned that despite anything he felt, it was only real if Theresa made it real.

Theresa didn't speak for several moments and allowed his question to burrow deep into her. She pondered the question deeply, searching herself for the answer she could give and the answer she knew she should. "I'm saying that I can't be." With that, she raised her hand to his chest and placed it over his heart. Leaving her touch against him, she let it linger for a second and he gently placed his hand over hers. With everything in him, Ethan wanted his heart to speak to her more forcefully than it ever had. It was hard and Theresa had to fight the emerging tears as she touched him. She begged for strength, she begged for something that would help her walk away from the man that wouldn't leave her heart. "I can't." Not allowing herself another glance, she quickly turned away and back up to her house.

* * *

It was always hard to walk away from him; to leave him. But still, she found herself walking away from the one person she never wanted to. It always hurt more than the last time. Sometimes, she thought about it and it was actually funny. She had walked away from the one man she loved more than anything else since she first met him. They were constantly walking away from each other, with or without each other's consent. It was hard to accept that he would never leave her for Gwen and it was hard to send him out of her presence the day she wore her wedding gown. It was agony as she walked down the aisle to her groom and it was even worse when she said her vows. Seeing him at her reception was pure torture and following her husband away from him was something she would never get over. Every time she had to walk away from him, even leaving the room without him, was like taking the oxygen from her lungs.

She sometimes reflected upon the questions that Whitney often posed. What if she hadn't married Fox? What if she had just waited just a little longer? Perhaps she would have been single when Ethan and Gwen divorced and perhaps none of the mess she was in would have ever happened. It was unfortunate to think that if she could, she would take back the day that was supposed to be the happiest of her life.

She walked back through the kitchen and out onto the patio where Fox and Ethan had just stood. She wondered what they discussed. Or who. She stared up at the inky sky and wondered how far away the stars really were. She thought back to the many wishes she made as a child; even as a teenager. She was once a dreamer, a girl that saw the world for what it could be. Those were the days she dreamt and fantasized about being with Ethan—her Prince Charming. If only she had known that everything would turn out so much differently.

If only.

Theresa stood staring up at the distant sky and wondered if off somewhere on another plane of existence if she had Ethan made it. Sometimes she thought that despite their feelings for each other, they weren't really meant to be together. After all, after everything that they'd gone through to be together and still Fate kept them apart, it was no doubt she thought that way.

She walked down the few steps of the patio and out into the gardens surrounding it. She remembered when they bought the place that she wanted her gardens to compete with Versailles. Realistically, she knew that she would never be able to replicate the grandeur that was Versailles, but she wanted the same beauty in her backyard. Letting lose a deep breath, she took a seat on the edge of one of the fountains and listened to gentle tapping of the water. It was quiet, the crickets beginning their evening song in the grass.

Her eyes were closed and she turned her energy inward, doing her best to forget what she and Ethan had just partaken in upstairs only a short while ago. Her body was suddenly flooded with warmth as she remembered what it felt like to have Ethan's body above her, his skin smooth and tight against hers. But it didn't matter. The fact was that she now sat on the fountain of the house that belonged to her and her husband.

Taking a deep exhale, Theresa forced tears away from her eyes. It was strange; crying had become a numbing sensation for her and she barely knew when she was crying anymore. So focused on the situation that haunted her everyday, she didn't even hear Fox approach and sit next to her.

"What are you thinking about?" he surprised her.

Theresa opened her eyes to find her husband staring at her with an inquisitive look. "Oh, hey, when did you get out here?"

"Just now. So, what you thinking about?"

Her eyes were still on the constellations that she wanted to escape to. "Hmmm?" she turned her attention back to him. "Did you say something?"

He smiled at her almost as if he knew something she didn't. He studied her silently, his eyes passing over everything he loved most. He wanted to smile, he wanted to cry, he wanted her. He wanted her to be happy above all else and he wasn't sure how to make that happen. It hurt him down to his core that he wanted nothing more than to see her smile at him without tears behind her eyes. Theresa was his angel, his grace, his everything and he knew in his heart that she would probably never feel the same way about him. And it cut his soul beyond repair.

Fox penetrated her with his eyes, tears making them bright in the sinking sunlight. "Do you love me?" he caught her off guard with his question and continued to stare at her with a smile behind his eyes. Theresa's eyes opened a little wider than they were.

"What?" She didn't know what to say. She sat there in silence, staring into his eyes as if they would give her the answer she couldn't say. No words were coming from her mouth and the guilt was beginning to flood over her. He didn't repeat his question because he knew she'd heard him. Her lack of response was no surprise to him and it hurt even more than he could have imagined. "Of course—of course I love you, Fox."

Hunched over next to her on the fountain, Fox rubbed his palms together and turned his eyes down. He looked down at the blades of grass beneath his feet, almost feeling as small and insignificant as they were. "Are you sure?" He turned to her then, the ball in his throat almost choking him. "Sometimes I doubt that."

Her heart almost broke when she saw the tears in his eyes. They were shiny and seemed to shake as he tried to keep the tears at bay behind his irises. She didn't know what to say. Looking at him and seeing the pain in his eyes and having to stare at him and say something that she knew she didn't feel was almost too difficult for her to do. Still, while she knew that she was far from the perfect wife, she had done nothing that would make him assume that she no longer loved him. She racked her brain for a reason as to why he would ask such a question. It hurt her soul as she thought about it. Where would he get such an idea from?

"I don't...," she tried. "Why are you saying this?"

He was careful with his next words. He didn't want to hurt her, but he was not going to keep quiet any longer. His voice was going to be heard… even if it killed her to hear it. Carefully thinking about what he wanted to say to her next, he stared at her, his heart almost not wanting to hear her answer, let alone speak the words.

"Do you still love Ethan?" His words were empty and yet they hit her with the strongest force she'd ever felt coming from him.

Theresa stared back at him with empty confusion. Breath left her body. She wanted to say no. She needed to say no. But she wasn't sure she could. Time passed; seconds, minutes, hours, she wasn't sure. Everything seemed to stand still and she felt like in one way or another, she would have to betray her heart.

"What?"

"You still love him, don't you?"

"I—no… I…" She was stoned with guilt. What else could she say? There was a fleeting instant that her heart asked why she was bothering with the charade. She knew that she loved Ethan, Ethan knew she loved him, and now Fox knew it, too. There was no hiding it anymore. But she still couldn't bring herself to rip out the heart of the man that loved her more than she could imagine.

"It's okay. I know how much you loved him." His head turned down again, almost regretting the fact that he would never be able to make her love him the way she loved his brother.

"Fox, he was my first love," was all she could think to say. As she said the words, she could remember the early days and the butterflies she felt when their fated love was just beginning to blossom. She could still feel Ethan's kiss on her lips as he pulled her against his body on the wharf. She remembered what it was like to be surprised when he proposed to her at midnight mass. She could still hear the waves of the beach the first night they made love... But it was all in the past and her first love didn't matter anymore. It couldn't.

Fox didn't waste any time with his response. "And you still love him," he stated. "Don't you?"

Theresa paused, doing her best to convince him of what she needed him to believe. "I love _you_, Fox."

Those words… he lived to hear her say them. Fox stared at her, his heart aching to believe the words she'd just said. Without thinking twice, he kissed her. In her intense guilt, she couldn't deny him and kissed him back with the ferocity she could only imagine with Ethan. For a quick instant, she imagined that she was kissing Ethan and could feel the weighing pull on her heart as she felt the difference against her lips.

As they pulled part, Fox's hand went to the sides of her face, just over her ears. He looked at her for a long moment, almost afraid to speak. The tears built in only a second and the tortured look in his eyes broke her heart. "I'm just afraid that you love him more than you love me."

Never before had she seen such pain in his eyes. She knew in that instant that he loved her more than anything else she could imagine and it scared her. His tear-filled eyes were begging her for some kind of reassurance of his feelings. "I love _you,_ Fox." Just for his sake, she wanted to make him believe.

And they kissed again. Pulling apart and resting in a tight embrace, he realized that she hadn't answered his questions.

* * *

_They couldn't keep their hands off each other in the car. As Ethan did his best to concentrate on the road, Theresa purposely tortured him by agonizingly sliding her hand between his legs. At a stop light they would turn to each other and kiss, Ethan suddenly losing his control and wanting to strip her from her clothes right then. With a beep of a car behind them, he would reluctantly turn back to the road and clench his jaw as Theresa teased him with foreshadowing of what he would get later. Finally watching the grills of the Crane Estate gates open, Ethan almost felt relief and he quickly sped the round about in front of the mansion. Barely putting the car in park, he jumped out of the car and raced to the passenger side. He helped Theresa out of the care and pulled her to her feet, not being able to wait to just kiss her. He pulled her to him, his body needing to be pressed against hers. _

"_Wait, Ethan," she tried breaking the kiss. "I thought—I thought we were going to eat." He was devouring her, his mind screaming to her to just feel the moment. _

"_I want dessert first." _

_They stumbled towards the door, Ethan not being able to remove his mouth form hers. Every sound she made was another tingle sent downward and she loved driving him crazy. Theresa managed to open the door, falling in with Ethan against her. His tie was removed quickly, his belt quick to follow and Theresa wondered if they would be able to make it upstairs to a bed. Ethan worked at her clothes, desperate to remove them and get as close as possible to her. _

"_When's Fox get home?" he asked between kisses. _

"_I don't care." _

_And she didn't. She barely even knew what time of day it was. Ravaging her, only Ethan consumed her thoughts. They pressed against the front door, Theresa's back against the window panes and Ethan pushing her further. His pelvis was pressed against her, the hardness forcefully telling her what he needed. If it wasn't for the barrier of clothing between them, Ethan would have taken her against the door. Theresa knew the weakness that could bring down any man—desire—and she used it to her advantage. Lining her tongue down his ear and around to his jaw line, she sucked skin, gnawing it with her teeth. Ethan's breath caught, his blood rushing to his loins and his heart hitched in pace. He imagined her mouth warm and small, wet and smooth, slick and willing, and he only grew harder. _

"_Theresa…," he managed to hiss. _

_Right away, his hands went to her breasts and he needed to feel her against his skin. Remembering that they were still outside for the world to see, he tried to grab the knob that would lead them into privacy. Theresa grabbed onto him as she felt the door behind her give away and they stumbled inside. Ethan's private barrier was gone and before anything, he shed Theresa of her shirt and his eyes hungrily taking in the body that he'd soon devour. They pulled each other close, both kicking off shoes as they headed towards the staircase. Quickly trying to feel her skin against his, Ethan pulled off the jacket and worked at his belt. As he hurried to remove clothes, Theresa attacked his neck again and did her best to create agony. Finally freed of everything but his pants, Ethan pulled Theresa to him with no intention of wasting anymore time. They began ascending the stairs and behind them was the trail of clothes that would no doubt tell anyone of their haste and lust. Theresa laughed as Ethan's skimming hands tickled her ribs and at how exhilarated in the moment she felt. _

"_Just curious," a voice cut the air of the room. _

_Ethan and Theresa stopped quickly, their arms wrapped around each other, their lips swollen and red, their hearts racing in carnal need. They looked across the foyer for a speaker, but found nothing but darkness. Then a light went on in the living room. There, only a few feet away, sat Fox in a Victorian armchair, his fingers still pulling the lamp string. _

"_Were you going to _our_ bedroom, Theresa?" Theresa broke away from Ethan in shock and in embarrassment shielded her chest from her husband's eyes. _

"_Fox…," she whispered. Walking closer, she noticed his damaged and strong demeanor. He sat cross-legged, one hand next to the lamp on the end table, one hanging over the arm out of sight. _

"_Hi, Theresa," he whispered softly. She wasn't sure if she heard tears behind his voice or if it was her imagination. _

"_Fox, I can explain—," she tried. _

"_So can I," he retorted quickly. "You've never stopped loving him," he said as he turned his eyes to a half-naked Ethan standing a few feet behind Theresa. "Have you?" _

_Theresa brushed her arms against the sudden chill to her skin. She looked behind her to the man that would never relinquish her heart from his grasp. "I—"she said as she turned back to Fox. _

"_And you've never loved me." He let it hang and watched as her face fell. "Have you?" _

"_Fox," she tried and she walked towards him. "That's not true!" As she came closer, Fox pulled his out-of-view hand up. Theresa's eyes grew wide with fear. There, in his left hand, Fox held a small black revolver. _

"_Isn't it?" he asked as calmly as he could. That's when Theresa saw the first tear fall from his eye. _

"_Fox, don't!" Ethan screamed. _

_Fox looked to Ethan, only hatred and jealousy building in his chest. "And you… you just had to continue taking everything I wanted, didn't you? Huh, half-bro?" _

_Ethan looked to Fox, his eyes reflecting the genuine pain he felt. "Fox, no, it wasn't like that."_

_Fox's eyes tightened in anger. "You weren't happy taking all of mother's love and attention. You weren't happy taking father's favor. You weren't happy being the golden boy. You weren't happy being the one that got everything. You weren't happy beating me out at everything. No. You wanted more. You weren't happy with your own wife… so you had to take mine. You just kept taking everything that I deserved, everything I wanted no matter who you had to hurt to get it. Isn't that how it went?"_

_Both Ethan and Theresa were silent. They stared at the heartbroken Fox, his pain evident. The gun he held in his hand waved with every angry word he said and his finger was squeezing tighter on the trigger. _

_Stepping forward, Ethan took stance next to Theresa. She knew more than anyone else that no one would be able to erase Ethan from her heart and no one would be able to erase the love she'd always feel for him. She felt Ethan's hand at the base of her naked back as he stepped next to her and she felt the warmth flood her body. She knew that despite anything, the love they shared would always be there. _

"_Fox… we can't help what we feel," he defended. Theresa wanted to chime in but thought better of it._

_Fox's eyes were glassy and silent tears fell. He laughed, a painful laugh that cut into Theresa's heart. "Yeah…? Neither can I." Then he stopped. His eyes, shiny and wet, stared into Theresa's and almost called to her. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jerking in his throat. Finally finding his words, Fox pulled his left arm up and cocked the gun. The black tip touched his temple and more tears fell as he spoke the words he would never stop feeling: "I love you, Theresa."_

_And then, with a silent flash, with a burst of fire, the gun went off and Fox fell motionless._

* * *

Theresa sprang up in her bed, sweat of exhaustion and desire coating her skin. She had almost forgotten where she was or what was going on. She looked around her, still searching for the living room and the bloodied arm chair with Fox's body. She looked behind her and found only a wall where she imagined Ethan had been standing. Finally recognizing her own bedroom, she looked down to Fox deep in slumber. He slept quietly, a light sound escaping his lips as he exhaled. She stared at him, the man that she dreamt of. Looking at him, she remembered her dream vividly. She remembered the exhilaration of being with Ethan, the overpowering lust and passion. She remembered her shock as she saw Fox waiting for her. She remembered the pain she felt as he described how Ethan had always taken from him. And then she remembered the tears.

Fox was not Ethan; that was a fact she knew on her wedding day. Theresa had always known that Fox would never be Ethan and no one ever could be. Ethan was the man her heart had chosen long ago and there was no replacement for the first person a heart attaches to. The day she married Fox, Theresa knew that Fox would never take Ethan's place, but she knew one thing that seemed to help her get through everything else: she did love Fox. Fox was her friend, her confidant, her helper, her hero. And after everything, he was there for her when she needed it most.

_I love you, Theresa._

She couldn't stop playing his words in her head. She couldn't shake the look in his eyes as he pulled the gun up to his head. That's when it hit her. Everything she was doing, everything she had done, was beginning to lead her up to the path of Fox's destruction. And she was to blame. She blamed herself for hurting him. She blamed herself for hurting Ethan. She blamed herself for everything every single day. If only she had made a different decision on her wedding day… If she had chosen to listen to Ethan's pleads rather than try to spite him and teach him a lesson… If only she had been true to herself, she might have been able to save all three of them a lifetime of heartache and pain.

But it was too late for that.

Whenever she was around Ethan, the world spun and everything went hazy. She knew that even if she promised herself to stay away from him, it wouldn't happen. Sooner or later, the love they shared and the lust they felt would not be able to be pushed back any further. And that love was killing Fox. It would kill him if she continued. _It was only a dream,_ she told herself. Still, warnings had always come to her in ways of dreams and it seemed too close to ignore. She was very much in the position to lead an affair with Ethan. She had the power to betray Fox. She wouldn't have been able to keep it secret from Fox for long and sooner or later, he would confront her. It all seemed too possible and that was when she had to make a decision. She had to make the final decision once and for all and make sure that she stuck to it.

Staring at Fox sleeping beside and knowing that she alone possessed the ability to kill him or give him life was a scary thought. He had never done anything to harm her and she wasn't going to punish him for doing nothing but love her.

No.

Fox deserved better. He deserved her love and he deserved to have something be his for a change. She loved him and she couldn't lose him—especially at her own hand. She had to change how things were. The words he had said to her on the fountain before they'd gone to sleep played again in her head and she was crashed with guilt. He had doubts about her love for him and she had no one else to blame for that.

It had to change.

* * *

"I need to see you as soon as possible," she said quietly, the tone in her voice almost quivering.

"Meet me downstairs in the lobby," he responded. "When can you be here?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

They hung up and suddenly, she felt the hesitation hit her in the chest. Just before she called him, she'd needed several minutes of self-convincing. Every time she'd reached for the phone, she would only think of what it feel like to end it all. _But end what_, she asked herself. They had begun something that shouldn't have started in the first place. But every thought ended the same way. While she started with thinking that she wasn't sure if she could give up what she wanted more than anything else, she would always remember Fox and how his body fell silently in the chair just after the gun went off. That image would be burned into her memory forever and it held over her like guilt magnified into tons.

When she put the phone down after talking to Ethan, she stared out the window. Down below, cars moved about Downtown Harmony and she wondered what it would be like to never see that black Lexus parked down there. She wondered just how it would be to give that all up.

Fox pulled that trigger.

She was killing him with every time she went against her wedding vows. Every time she kissed Ethan, she was putting a gun in Fox's hand. Every time she dreamt of Ethan, she raised that gun higher to his head. And every time she made love to Ethan, she was helping Fox pull that trigger.

If she continued, she would be the gun that would eventually take his life.

A few minutes later, she found herself in the limo with Harold as her driver. "Winthrop & Associates," she instructed him. He looked at her as if she had to have been mistaken. Theresa stared him down and said nothing. With a slight hesitation, Harold began driving and Theresa started to feel the fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Just the prospect of seeing Ethan sent her mind on a frenzy. She was there shortly and she had to tell herself to breathe. She sat in the backseat clutching her purse and wondered if she had the strength to get out of the car. Her heart was pounding and once again Fox's image pushed into her brain. His body fell across the chair and red stained his temple and his eyes went flat. She had to do this to save him from the destruction she was causing. Closing her eyes and affirming that there was a life at stake, Theresa stepped out of the limo and onto the sidewalk.

She looked up and saw the tall gray building that housed Ethan's firm. As she began walking towards the revolving doors, they turned open and revealed Ethan. He walked towards her, his face clearly showing the excitement he felt at seeing her. As soon as he was close enough, he pulled her face to his in one gesture and descended his lips against hers. Immediately—the reflex she'd never understand—she wrapped into him. Her arms pulled him as close as she could and her pelvis melted right against his body so they could feel each other everywhere. With his lips, he softly parted hers and reveled in the feel of her kiss. Theresa was caught up and her heart beat even faster when she was in his arms. While kissing him, she remembered how they'd kissed the same way in her dream. She remembered the way he'd removed her clothes as they approached the staircase. She remembered the feel of his hands on her body. Then she remembered Fox and the gun he had in his hand.

Bang.

The gun went off and it was her fault. No more.

"No, wait," she struggled to get out as she pulled away.

"God, I've needed to see you," he breathed out heavily. His hand brushed her breast and her ribcage and her head spun. He wasn't going to make this easy, she thought. He kissed her again and made her blood rush. "Let's go up to my office," he breathed into her mouth before his lips met hers again.

"No, Ethan, wait," she pushed back again.

"You're right. Someone might suspect… My apartment." He pulled her to him again and took no hesitation in letting his hands wander.

"No, Ethan," she tried again.

"Then where? Your office? What about Fox?"

_Fox_.

"No, stop." He stared at her in a confused smile. "Ethan, we—we can't do this."

"Of course we can. Come here." He pulled her to him again and put his lips to her neck and Theresa needed all the strength she had to walk away from him.

"Ethan, stop." This time she was firmer than she had been and she wondered if it was because she subconsciously wanted those few moments with him before she had to end it.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "We have to stop, Ethan."

"Stop what?"

"This is why I asked you to meet me. We can't do this anymore." She paused and steeled herself before her next words.

"What—what are you talking about?"

"I can't do this to Fox anymore! I won't."

Ethan stared at her with his mouth hanging open in shock. His heart was beating strongly; first with adrenaline and excitement and now with panic and confusion. "Theresa, what are you talking about?"

"We're killing him!" she screamed.

Before he had a chance to ask what she was talking about, she ran inside the revolving doors and took a seat on the small cushioned sofa by the window in the lobby. Ethan went after her and sat next to her. Without even realizing it, his hand went o her back in his habitual gesture of comforting her. She sat there, her elbows resting on her thighs and her head hung low.

"Theresa…? Theresa, talk to me." She stared down and tried not to focus on what it felt like to have him so close. "What have to stop this, Ethan," she whispered. "For Fox's sake."

"What does Fox have to do with this, Theresa? He knows, doesn't he?"

Theresa looked up quickly. "Oh, god, no. But I can't take the chance that he'll find out. It'll kill him… it _is_ killing him." She still stared down at her hands and he stared at her for a long time.

"I love you, Theresa."

That's when she turned back up to him. They held the stare for a long time and she wished he could feel the pain in her heart. It was breaking her in two. Her eyes held the water they wanted to tear and she went in and kissed him. It was light and as she felt his lips against hers, tears fell onto her cheeks and she stayed against his lips for a lingering moment. She could feel that he was about to make the kiss deeper and she quickly pulled away.

"Goodbye." Another tear fell and Ethan simply watched her run through the revolving doors and out into the limo she'd arrived in.

He watched her walk away from him. He sat in the lobby for a long time after she left, almost waiting for the black limo to reappear. He stared into the world and tried to make sense of what seemed to continually happen to him—just as he thought they could finally have what they'd always wanted, she was gone, out of his reach. There was one thing that he reaffirmed in his mind, however: he wasn't just going to give up this time. If he was ever going to have what they needed together, he had to fight for it. His mind wandered and tried to come up with something.

He quickly grabbed the blackberry from his beast pocket and dialed her number. It rang a few times before going to her voicemail. He tried again and the same thing happened. He knew that she somewhere looked at her phone and with tears falling, she declined to answer. Ethan tried her office next and when her receptionist transferred him to her unanswered line, he left a desperate message. "Theresa, please. We'll think of something for Fox. Please don't do this to us. After everything we've gone through… I love you , Theresa… Please."

* * *

Theresa was driven back to Crane Tower and on the way, Ethan called her twice. Every time she had to ignore the phone call, her heart broke into another piece. When she returned to her office, Chris had left four pink missed call slips on her desk. All were from Ethan. She took a seat in the big black chair and tried not to remember what Ethan's face looked like when she ran out the door. She hurt too many people with her decisions and she was just going to have to live with it.

No longer in the energy to do any kind of work, Theresa had Harold drive her home early. As she saw the gates of the estate open, she wondered how she was going to react around Fox. She knew he was home already; probably working on something from the office at home. Saying goodbye to Ethan was hard enough, but yet, she felt that she owed it to Fox to step back into the role of his wife as soon as possible.

River ran to the door just as he did every day greet her. Theresa thanked him as she handed her coat and bag off to him. He smiled and gave a half-bow as he made off. Theresa stared up at the staircase and told herself to gather the strength to defy gravity.

_Ethan._

She shut her eyes and forced the heartbroken expression he gave her out of her mind. Exhaling slowly, Theresa grabbed the ornate wooden railing on her left and pulled herself up the first few stairs. Then the light went on. It startled her and she jumped when she saw it. She looked over to the living room and Fox sat in the Victorian arm armchair with his finger still pulling he lamp string.

"Fox…," she said breathlessly. "You scared me."

Flash.

_Then a light went on in the living room. There, only a few feet away, sat Fox in a Victorian armchair, his fingers still pulling the lamp string._

Then her heart began pounding. She looked to his hands quickly for a sin of the gun he'd used in her dream. His hands were empty and one of them pinched his eyes.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. "Sorry. Just resting my eyes before I go."

She was still focused on the déjà vu feeling that she hadn't heard him. He stood from the chair and her heart skipped as she waited for the gun to appear. He reached down and she felt her world shift beneath her. She gasped and his hand tightened around the handle of a small suitcase and it was becoming clearer.

"Go? Go where? Fox… you can't leave!" she cried.

He looked at her quizzically. "Theresa, it's okay."

"No—no, it's not! You can't just leave like this!"

"Theresa, it's okay. Calm down. I'll only be gone for a few days. I should be back by Thursday. Crane's merging with a Japanese company and it's a very important deal." He walked to her and everything started making sense.

_He was going on a business trip._

His hand went to her face and he stroked her cheek. "You're trembling… Are you sure you're okay?"

She swallowed had and nodded. "Yeah," she tried. "I'm fine. I just… you really scared me and… yeah, I'm okay." She offered a small smile and tried to push a sad and dead Fox out of her mind. "Go, be safe."

He looked at her deeply for confirmation that she really as all right. "You're sure?"

She nodded again before kissing his lips lightly. "Go." She smiled through fear again. "Bring me back some saki."

Reluctantly, he let go of her face and bent down to retrieve the suitcase. "I love you," he said softly.

Her lips tugged a half-smile. "I love you…"

* * *

"T," Chris' voice rang out over her intercom.

"Yeah," Theresa answered as she pushed the button on her phone.

"There's an Ethan Winthrop on line two."

Then she froze. Just as she was about to pick up the phone from its cradle, her hand stopped in midair when she heard the caller's name.

"T?" he called back her attention.

Shaking her head, she focused. "Yeah. I got it. Thanks." Hesitating slightly, she pushed the button and picked up the receiver. "Theresa Crane."

"Hi, Theresa," came the smooth voice she knew all too well. "It's Ethan." Something inside of her belly fluttered when she heard his voice. Her words stuck in her throat, she froze. "Theresa? You there?"

Ripped from her fog and forced to speak to him, she answered. "Yeah, I'm here."

There was a pause, Ethan almost feeling the discomfort coming through the phone. "Well, I was thinking that I could come to your office today and go over some layout stuff…" Theresa said nothing and held the phone against her ear. Ethan quietly waited for her response and still she said nothing. "Theresa?"

Theresa was so tempted to say something, but her words were caught. She couldn't speak even though she really wanted to. There was silence between them and she finally hung up without a word. She stared at the phone and suddenly felt like a fool. Theresa could only imagine what Ethan was thinking about her now. Yes, it was hard to still have him as part of her life. But she had to learn to move past it and live without him.

Chris walked in with a few file folders in his usual swagger. Stepping up to her desk, he laid them next to her and passed her a small smile. "How'd it go?"

Theresa rubbed her forehead and massaged her temples in embarrassment. "I…. I hung up on him," she confessed.

At first, Chris thought she was kidding and he laughed before he realized that she was looking at him with the same serious look that she'd used when she said it. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"I can't do this, Chris." He felt for her and watched as frustration consumed her in a quiet frown. She bowed her head and the breaths deepened in her thought. "I just told him that we can't see each other anymore… and this—this…. I can't do it."

"I know," Chris admitted. "But you have to. If you're ever going to have a normal kind of relationship with him, you have to learn how to act normal around him."

"That's just it! I want more than a normal relationship with him. I can't look at him without wanting more than that, Chris..."

Chris grabbed her hand and smiled at her sympathetically. "I know… But what's more important to you? Your first love or your husband?" Theresa didn't answer and wanted to believe that she knew the answer. "Look, T," Chris said informatively, "if you can't think about him, use your time with him to your advantage. Drown yourself in this new project and teach yourself to be around him for only work purposes."

Theresa stared at him, something clicking in her brain. "Yeah… you're right. I'll do it. I can take on this layout and make myself see him as just a client and I'll insist nothing happens. I'm a big girl," she proclaimed. "I can do this!"

Chris smiled to himself. "That a girl."

* * *

Theresa called Ethan back an apologized for a bad connection. She made the appointment for 4:30 that afternoon and began running around the office to assemble all she needed to begin the layout reconstruction for his firm. She made phone calls and ran from department to department. Sooner than she'd anticipated, she had a full project to present to Ethan when he arrived. But the more she got done, the more her adrenaline wore off and 4:30 was quickly approaching.

Theresa's hands were already quivering in anticipation. As the clock ticked to 4:22, Theresa's heart quickened and her kidneys triggered adrenaline to flow throughout her body. The open file folder on her desk had scattered papers with ideas everywhere. There were charts, designs, new choices, color schemes, and hand-sketched logos that took time to collect. Nervously, Theresa chewed on her bottom lip and her hands turned ice cold as the blood surged through her body with quickening vigor. She could hear her heart beating within her head, reverting across the silent walls. Her freezing hands played with her chain, twisting the chain with her shaky fingers. Her cautious thoughts were interrupted when the red light on her phone blinked and the ring shook inside her ears. Jumping to grasp the receiver, Theresa put the phone to her ear.

"Theresa Crane," she answered coolly.

"You have a visitor, T. A Mr. Ethan Winthrop is here to see you."

As if her body hadn't been working fast enough, it went into overdrive. "Um," she swallowed hard, "send him to the conference room. I'll be there in a minute." After hanging up, Theresa seriously contemplated running away. As the minute passed, her breathing grew shallower and complete nervousness took over.

"Chris?" she said, pressing the button on her phone. Right away, her assistant ripped off his headset and rushed into her office. "I—I… can't," she stuttered.

With nothing to say, Chris walked to her desk and grabbed all the strewn papers, fixing them into a single pile and conforming them into the file folder. "Yes, you can," he reassured.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Hey," he said, crouching close to her face, "you have to be the amazing tiger that you are. That's it, T. You can do it."

She nodded reluctantly. "Yeah…"

"You can face him, I know you can." With a smile, she took the folder, pulled at her collar authoritatively, and headed out of her office to the conference room.

As soon as Ethan walked into the large meeting room, he noticed the posters and other things Theresa had gathered for him. He waited for five minutes and slowly tried to keep his nerves in check. Breaking him away from his thoughts, Theresa walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She carried a large manila folder in her hand and Ethan couldn't help but notice the black outfit. The pencil line skirt fell to below her knees, a pink collared shirt under the black blazer added color to her face and drew a V down to her chest.

The air was thick with tension and Theresa wasn't sure where to begin. She put the folder down and stood across the table from Ethan. She had decided that it was probably a good idea to keep as much distance between them as possible.

"So I've arranged all design materials here," she guided his vision to the right side of the table. "The architecture there… and the interior design layouts are in here," she gestured to the folder she'd just put down. As he ignored her first words, his thoughts again turned to the night they'd shared in his apartment.

_Ethan pulled her against him and lifted her from the floor again as he kissed her. She was so small and her weight was nothing in his arms. She removed her hands from him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he began moving. She didn't open her eyes to look where he was going; she already knew where he was headed. Moving the few feet across the room, Ethan carried her to his bed and fell on top of her without breaking their kiss._

"This… I thought of this logo," she broke his thoughts. That was when Ethan realized that she had crossed the room and was standing next to him to better point out what she was talking about. "It's very modern, kind of adding a modern touch to the company name." She was pointing to a symbol that was a backwards E with a W merging into the back it, a steel logo, representing it. E.W. & Associates it read. There was another one that was just a large W with a bar through the middle, one attempt at a simple, mysterious representation.

Theresa kept her eyes on the table, pushing herself to focus on her drawings and not on the sensual aroma of his cologne. "Over here," she grabbed a large blue print, "is the plan I promised. Elaine Driscoll from architecture helped me." Ethan caught a glimpse of the intricate blue print but his attention was being deceived by memories and flashes of their night, and as he looked at her, his memories were beginning to become fantasies. Nothing she was saying was registering. Every move she made tortured him.

Theresa pressed herself to continue, too enraptured in her own thoughts to look at him. She couldn't face him anyway. "Now, I wasn't sure when you said to continue with the lines for your building… Did you want something else?" This time, she couldn't escape not looking at him and turned up. Upon meeting his eyes, Theresa's mind also flashbacked. His blue eyes above her, penetrating deep into her soul, filled with such ravaging calm and desire took over. Just as the other day, his face close to hers, beckoning her closer, closer… Ethan noticed her cloudy eyes, almost smiling to himself.

He remembered how she had fallen to the soft bed, his weight above her, their lips connected. Her arms pulled him closer as they wrapped around his neck. Ethan's hands had slowly slid up the sides of her body, roughly gliding up the damp skin. Their mouths sparred, passionately intertwining. His touch electrified her body, his responding to each moan, each breath, each sigh, each kiss.

He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind for days. She was everywhere—in everything he did. When he poured himself his daily cup of coffee, he thought of what her hands felt like against his back, urging him and containing him all at the same time. As he fixed his tie into a Windsor knot, he remembered with what vigor she tore it from his neck in the haste that they undressed each other. Taking a shower, the steam surrounding him as he lowered his head and let the water pour over his head reminded him of her ragged breaths against his shoulder, how she moaned into his neck and filtered her desires through his skin. At night, lying in bed for the moments before he fell asleep, he was reminded of the feeling of her body beneath him, the softness of her skin pressed to his chest, her legs around his waist pulling him deeper, her eyes that faded to the lustful black, her cries and kisses against his mouth—all of her. He couldn't escape the clutches she laid to his soul that night; the hold that she had over his heart agonized and tortured him every single day of his life.

But always, as he remembered the raging passion of that night together, the fire that erupted between them, he remembered the welling tears in her eyes that he caused. Her speechlessness haunted him when he'd explained that it had to end. His own professions of love radiated through his mind and broke his heart. He couldn't tear himself way from her. But he had to. He knew only more pain would emerge from anything they shared. He cursed himself for causing her pain and damned himself for allowing himself to leave her alone with her tears. And now, as she stood before him, so close to his reach, he couldn't help but be completely consumed by the fire that drove his never-ending desire for her.

Nothing was right. Everything was wrong. But he didn't care. He pushed her away. He broke his own heart and made her cry. He denied himself what they'd both desperately craved for too long. And now, she had broken his heart by explaining that she couldn't continue breaking her husband's heart in betrayal. This was his breaking point. He was no longer listening to her words, too enraptured in his own thoughts.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he said close against her ear. Her breathing and speaking suddenly stopped.

_Theresa's eyes locked with his, the brown frozen on the blue above her. The intensity they both found before them, the desire, the strong, raging passion echoing in the silence around them. Both lost in the moment, their minds were racing with disbelief. Ethan was aching to move, his body straining to contain itself._

Theresa pretended that she couldn't smell him, she pretended that she hadn't heard that, and she desperately tried to pretend that he wasn't beginning to break that walls she'd put up for her husband's sake. His breath was warm against her cheek and she knew he'd suddenly gotten closer to her. But she couldn't look up at him. If she did, she knew it would be her undoing.

She thought of Fox again, the dream that made her shake in her sleep with terror spinning into her forefront. Somehow, it all got cloudy when Ethan was so close to her, so incredibly intoxicatingly near… All she needed to do was look up and she knew that the instinctual desires of her body would take over when she met the lustful gaze she was sure to meet. But that would mean that she would discard the warning dream… and she wasn't sure if she could do that; she wasn't sure if she could take the chance that it could actually happen. There was nothing she would be able to do to pass the guilt if Fox ever did do something like that.

Ethan stared at her, somehow becoming more excited when he noticed that she refused to look up at him. The day she'd told him that nothing could continue with them, he'd spent the night in a panic. He couldn't imagine not being with her again. Thinking back on it, he wasn't sure how he'd made it through her wedding, or the two years afterwards for that matter. He couldn't believe he went through each day without so much as a satisfying thought about her. Everything he knew, everything he felt killed him inside. And while he understood what she'd said about Fox, he wasn't sure that he'd survive without her. She'd insisted that if they continued, they would inevitably be responsible for killing Fox. Yet, without her, he was dying.

"Theresa…," he breathed, a whisper barely audible.

Then she felt his hand on her cheek, his thumb slightly moving over her lower lip. Still, while he'd turned her face to him, she looked down, too afraid of what her own desires would make her do. She forced the image of Fox's defeated face into her mind, she purposely filled her brain with images of his gun, the bullet that flashed into his temple, and the blood that spilled from the wound he'd caused in his anguish.

No.

Desperate against what she really wanted, Theresa pulled away from him, her eyes downward. Ethan was shocked when she pulled away from him. He was sure that she wouldn't be able to deny it any longer. She stepped away from him and he realized that she was trying her best to stay true to her word and end things between them.

Theresa closed her eyes, painfully forcing herself to think of Fox and the dream. It hurt to see him in so much pain, but she knew it was the only thing she could to fight off the desire she felt for Ethan. Ethan watched as she closed her eyes and he knew he was getting her. Stepping closer to her, he ran his knuckles against her cheek softly. She flinched, the conflicting emotions and needs crowding her mind.

_Fox. _

_Blood. _

_Death. _

_Pain. _

_Destruction. _

"Please…?" she begged softly. She refused to open her eyes and was silently begging herself to stop seeing her dream, but she was also begging Ethan to not torture her like that anymore. Theresa's eyes were beginning to water beneath her lids and suddenly a silver line fell through to her lashes.

Ethan grabbed her face in his hands, his heart breaking to see her in such pain. He knew that she internally fighting to keep her need for him at bay, all the while trying to remain true to Fox. She still refused to look at him and he traced a tear that fell from the corner of her eye.

"Theresa, look at me." But she wouldn't, she couldn't. "Please."

Their hearts pounded to each other, the messages sent through coursing blood strong in their ears. Ethan knew she was scared, but he tried to silently reassure her that there could be no god cruel enough to give them the gift of intense and passionate love and not want them to act on it. He knew there had to be some kind of solution for Fox.

Again, Ethan moved his thumb across her bottom lip and Theresa couldn't help but imagining that it had been replaced with his lips.

"Look at me," he tried again.

Her chest was tight, her lungs stolen for breath, her heart aching in torment. But she wanted to look at him. She needed to look at him. Finally, forcing herself to open her eyes, she connected her light brown eyes against his fiery blues. Seeing that he'd broken her, Ethan smiled. The next thing either of them knew, his lips were against hers. He pulled her to him and Theresa didn't fight it. Her mind was screaming that it was wrong, Fox's image pushing into her memory. It was so real that she could almost hear the gunshot ricocheting through her head.

She cried as she kissed him, her unwillingness to hurt Fox losing against her inability to deny her heart. Ethan was lost in the moment, his hunger for her ravenous. He held her in his arms, his lips smoothly moving against hers. Ethan could feel the slippery coolness of her tears against his thumb and he quickly pulled away. He stared at her, his eyes full of concern and hatred of himself.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. Theresa stared up at him, her eyes wet, her expression scared and stressed.

Now he knew just what anguish she was in. He had to have known that only something bad enough would pull her away from him and force her to break both their hearts. And he was pushing her against the painful decision she made… and he was hurting her even more.

"God, I'm sorry," he apologized again. It was his fault, he knew. He caused her pain and he had continually told himself that he would never make her cry again. Yet, every time he made himself that promise, he couldn't seem to keep it. And her tears were proof.

His face was close to hers, his nostrils taking in her scent and her fear. Her eyes were wide, her heart was pounding against her sternum, and Ethan closed the space between their foreheads. Their hearts were pounding messages to the other again. He hated hurting her and he hated seeing her in pain. She hated the pain and she hated seeing him in such anguish and she knew that she'd had the opportunity to prevent it all three years ago.

Ethan stared into her eyes again, the knowledge of what he had to do clear. But could he? He knew he loved her, he knew that he could never be happy without her… and then he looked at the wet streaks under eyes. That was enough.

He was not going to cause her pain.

His thumb slowly grazed back and forth across her cheek and she noticed that he was having difficulty swallowing. Ethan fought hard against the lump that was accumulating and tried his best to control the urge to cry. "I love you." He said it softly, definitively, and she also heard the tone behind it. He was saying goodbye. Again.

Theresa's eyes went wider and two more tears fell out. No. She suddenly panicked. Fox was no longer in the forefront of her mind. All she saw, all she knew, all she wanted, was Ethan.

"No," she choked out. "No." Her hands clung to him, her fingers squeezing tight on the suit jacket he wore.

Ethan didn't know what to do. He was frozen between the love of his life and the right thing to do. She'd tried to do the right thing, she'd tried to take matters into her own hands, and he made her fail every single time. Now, it was his turn to try to do the right thing. Even if it wasn't for the same motives as hers were, he knew that he couldn't continue hurting her and seeing her cry because he couldn't abide. He would not be responsible for making her cry.

But she was crying again.

Ethan ran his thumb along her bottom lip again, trying to remember what it felt like; he wasn't sure if he'd feel it again. Theresa knew what he was doing and she was starting to shake inside. Stunned into silence in her fear, she couldn't speak. But she had to make him stay. To say goodbye to him was one thing, but for him to walk away from her… She wasn't sure if she could handle that. Again. She'd felt the world fall beneath her feet one too many times and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to get back up this time.

Theresa pulled his thumb between her lips and kissed his fingertip. Her heart was silently begging him not to leave her—just as she knew he was planning. Ethan could feel his resolve wavering when he felt her mouth on his finger, but he couldn't give in. Pulling his finger out of her mouth, he quickly kissed her lips and left her side. He was headed for the door when her heart screamed to him.

"Ethan, wait!"

Ethan stopped, his back to her just as he was about to reach the conference room door. Theresa stared at him, her heart begging him to stay. As he turned back to her, his eyes were beginning to water. They locked eyes, the pain evident between the two. Theresa was crying again and it ate at his heart more than he could imagine. He wasn't sure how much more he was able to take. The constant give and take between he and Theresa, the constant pain and heartache was beginning to take a toll on his spirit.

Theresa stared at him, her eyes pleading with him not to leave her. But as she stared, she realized that a blank stare was looking back at her. She was sure that he was just going to turn and walk away. As she turned her head down, Ethan thought his heart would explode in sadness.

He went to her, almost in a run, and he took her in his arms. She went willingly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as tight as she could summon. They held each other for so long, minutes passed by as if seconds.

"I can't do this, Ethan," she sobbed into his shoulder.

The lump in Ethan's throat grew. "I know…" His fingers combed through her hair, massaging her scalp and holding her closer to him.

"I can't stand this… I don't want to hurt Fox… but I don't know how to let you go, Ethan. I can't." Again she was crying and the tears were soaking up in his shoulder.

That was when Ethan realized something: this was about Fox. She was so scared of hurting Fox that she was going to sacrifice their happiness for it. He couldn't let her live in that kind of pain—he wouldn't.

"Shhh…," he soothed her softly. "It'll be okay."

"No, Ethan," she cried. "I can't stand this. If he finds out, Ethan, it'll kill him!" And the tears were falling faster from her eyes and her breaths were becoming shallower and shallower.

"Hey, hey," he called her attention to him as he pulled back enough to see her face. "Theresa, we'll figure something out. I promise." His voice was soft and somber, just as it always was. Theresa could always trust anything he said because he always spoke with such sincerity. His eyes connected with hers, the deep blue reassuring her that anything was possible. To seal his promise, Ethan kissed her again. She fell into him easily, her arms pulling him close, her lips dancing against his and soon they were backing against the long table.

And suddenly, just like every time they were near each other, they forgot about everything that was happening around them. All that mattered was them and what they felt. Theresa's tears dried against her cheeks in stiff tracks and Ethan gladly kissed them away. Getting caught up in the moment, Ethan moved from her face to her neck and there, he found his excitement. Right away, Theresa pulled him closer, her moaning intensified, and their desire was ignited.

They fell onto the conference table, Theresa's back against the flat wood. She pulled Ethan on top of her eagerly and he fell between her legs. Their mouths were a tangle of tongues and lips and Ethan's hand quickly undid the button holding her blazer closed. The blazer fell open at her sides and Ethan continued with his focus on the buttons of her blouse. Quickly undoing the first few at the top, he revealed enough to see her bra.

Theresa trembled as his hand slid up her leg to her inner thigh. Encountering the fabric of her skirt, Ethan pushed it up around her waist and out of his way. Theresa felt suddenly exposed, her skin cool without guard. Consumed. Ravaged. Taken.

Theresa didn't think. Nothing was in her mind but the flesh against her hands, the lips against her skin, and the fire burning in her blood. There was no pain, no more Fox, no blood, no more conflict. In that moment, in each breath she took, there was only Ethan and her body's overwhelming desire to be close to him. Nothing mattered for him anymore. The woman he loved, the one that broke his heart in each passionate pulse, was in his arms and that was all he needed. In the moments that he felt her heated flesh against his fingertips, he was selfish. Fox wasn't a forethought any longer.

They both were lost in the moment, the wildfire consuming as it would the dry and brittle bark of a dead forest. Theresa unlooped his tie and quickly tore it from his neck. Ethan groaned when he felt the soft burn of moving fabric and undid the first few buttons at the top of his collar. Their lips moved, they danced, they mingled, and they seemed to pass something through them that would never stop. Still kissing him, Theresa continued down the buttoned path until the shirt fell open. She took the opportunity to feel his skin, the warm hard muscle tingled at her touch. Slowly, Theresa traced the muscular lines of his body; the low valleys of his chest, the indentions of his hips, the ridges of his ribs, the smoothness of his abdomen all combined and made her pull him even closer.

Faintly, Ethan heard the crinkle of some paper and pushed the sound aside. He didn't really care about redecorating his firm or adding new signs. To be honest with himself, Ethan knew that he'd only agreed to do a new layout because Theresa would be heading it up. He wasn't able to pass up a chance to be so close to her after so long.

And he was.

She was so close it was suffocating him.

Their skin was heated within seconds and they both couldn't wait to get rid of their clothes. Taking his opportunity, Ethan pulled her opened blouse down across her breast and mauled until he swiped away the scrap of fabric. The orb of flesh fell deliberately into his hand. Ethan pressed his body against her as he fell to put his lips to her nipple. Theresa almost screamed, the ripe pleasure aching through her.

Their pelvises were pressed close, Ethan's hardness flush against her entrance. Through the barrier of his clothes and her underwear, Ethan still felt the instinctual need to thrust. Feeling him push against her, Theresa moaned. Ethan groaned in pain when he didn't get what he needed. Instead he again took his attention upwards and lathered her breast with his tongue. Theresa made a sound that sounded like a revving engine.

It was so fast but at the same time, they felt the moment was agonizingly slow. Ethan's hand—that was just massaging the neglected breast—began to wander down over her body. Past her hip, over her pelvis, down and between her legs. Suckling her and using his hand, Ethan was beginning a fire that would only be put out by explosion.

Theresa held onto his sides, her grip squeezing and releasing in her pleasure. Ethan pulled up to stare at her. Her head was back; her jaw line tight and towards the ceiling, her eyes shut tight, her bottom tucked securely behind her teeth. Stopping everything, Ethan reached for a hand that was grabbed at his side. Theresa opened her eyes in shock and stared at him. His eyes were a lustfully dark blue, his pupils slightly dilated with the surge of adrenaline. He smiled at her in a small twitch of his lips as if he knew something she didn't.

He stared at her, silently reassuring her that it was fine. Theresa's let him take her hand and watched carefully as she guided her touch down his hard stomach to his groin area to the engorged and hard length of tissue. Through his pants, she felt the all-too-familiar rod shape that she knew was encased in skin softer than silk. Slowly, Theresa ran her palm up and down against him and she could swear that she felt it become even harder. She stared down at her hand and watched it feel across the bulge that was probably beginning to strain in pain. That was when she realized that he had stopped breathing.

She looked up at him to read his expression and stopped moving her hand. Ethan came from his pleasurable daze immediately and went down to her again. Hooking his face to the bend of her neck, he breathed loudly, the desire in it almost tangible. Before Theresa ad time to react to his breath, his hand was against her again, inside of her. Theresa moved against his fingers and arched her back hard against the wooden table under her. Ethan's thumb flicked against the bud of tingling nerves.

"Ah." She bucked.

Again he flicked and again she bucked. Still moving two fingers in and out of her, Ethan's thumb began drawing circles around the sensitive bud. Quickly and harder than she'd imagined, something was building strongly. Instinctually, Theresa reached out for him again, needing him to feel the fire that she was. Ripples and waves of electricity surged through her and had her searching blindly with her hands. Ethan noticed her frustrated attempts to reach him without her vision and immediately calmed her with a smooth hand.

"Shhh…," he coaxed her softly. "It's okay." Her tries to grasp became more urgent as the power of the coming tide began to flood her senses. "It's okay."

Suddenly, Ethan could no longer keep her searching and grabbing hands away. It was almost as if she was trying to fight him off as it became too much for her skin to contain.

"It's okay. It's okay," he tried.

Theresa could feel a sudden panic almost as if she could feel the heat of the bonfire she was about to be tossed into. Furiously ravaging through her blood, the mounting orgasm had her shaking on the precipice.

"Just—just come to me. It's okay. Come to me, Theresa. Come to me."

And she shook and she shook and her body crashed. The fire flooded, the waves washed, and the electricity intensified. Then there was a black out.

Breathing deeply and letting her muscles calm down, Ethan went to her neck again and let her begin to descend. She clung to him, whiteness fading into reality in her mind. Her breathing cooled and her muscles returned to a relaxed state. Before she was back to normal, Ethan was touching her again. The building started—only faster this time.

"I love you, Theresa," Ethan sighed. "I love you." And he moaned into her mouth as he kissed her. "It's okay. We can't help what we feel…"

Then everything froze.

_We can't help what we feel._

We can't help what we feel was what he'd said to Fox in her dream.

Fox. Her dream.

Suddenly it wasn't real. It wasn't a dream. Everything had somehow become a mixture of the two. As if someone was showing her in snapshots, flashes exploded of her memories: Fox. Gun. Bang. Ethan. Stairs. _I love you. _Black.

Ethan was beyond all reason now. His resistance was waning and the innate orders of his body began to take over. He had just raked his eyes over her agonizing features, her shaking muscles, and her quick breaths and it only added to the immense desire he felt for her. Kissing her again, Ethan's hands went to his belt buckle. Quickly fumbling in his haste, he tried his best to pull away the hindrance.

Theresa's mind was swimming—and drowning. Her dream was beginning to swirl as if it were nothing but something but a figment of her imagination. But it was. Wasn't it? She felt Ethan above her and knew that every cell in her body was screaming for her to touch him, welcome him, be with him. But yet, there was something trying to push its way through her consciousness.

_Bang._

Theresa knew that if she did this, she would condemn her husband. She would ensure his destruction, his death, his heartbreak. And in return, she knew that with her guilt, she would never be able to be with Ethan without hearing Fox's pain and seeing his tears every time she stepped near his half-brother.

Ethan ripped the belt from his waist and opened the front. There was a sudden relief that flushed his blood. While Theresa could feel that Ethan was accessing himself to her, she was frozen. She only had mere seconds to process her fear, her anguish, her guilt, her treason, and act on it all before it was too late. And she was running out of time.

Popping out of his boxer briefs, Theresa suddenly felt him on her inner thigh and something inside of her began to panic. She knew that she would never be able to prevent what happened to Fox afterwards. Ethan's heart was pounding and he was inches away from joining them. That's when she stopped him.

"No. Stop!" Theresa used her flat palms against his chest to push him away.

Ethan's heart felt like it would explode in shock. "What! What's wrong?" He looked up thinking someone had walked into the conference room. There was no one.

"No, Ethan. Stop."

Suddenly Ethan was pounding in pain where he was only to experience bliss. His muscles stiffened and his body was calling to him to ignore her protests and take her as his own with no remorse. But he couldn't.

Theresa pushed up, quickly sitting and forcing him to roll to her side. Her head spun in her speed, but she did her best to focus.

"We can't do this, Ethan." She refused to look at him and she knew that he was staring at her in confusion. "If… if… no." _Fox fell motionless. _"We can't. I can't."

Ethan sat beside her, his chest in spasm, his heart racing and his blood surging in his veins. One minute, he was close to having her, and the next, he was without her. It was too much.

Trying to fight welling tears, Theresa, quickly pulled her bra over her breasts and buttons her blouse. She hopped off the conference room table and didn't dare turn to Ethan. She pulled her skirt down back to its original length over her legs and tugged the blazer together over her chest. Feeling together, she finally forced herself to look at him.

"We… we just can't, Ethan. This can't happen again." Even as she spoke, the tears that were behind her voice were not lost.

She didn't want to look at him, but she finally made herself. He sat there half naked before her, his confusion and hurt clearly etched on his face. She tried not to take in the body that was just above her and she did her very best not to get lost in the desires that his flesh brought to her.

Her heart felt like a crystal pyramid; each face belonged to her, Fox, and Ethan. And each face couldn't seem to exist as a whole without the other two. But at the same time, all three struggled for the point. She knew something, though: if the third face was to be removed, the shape left would be the shape of half a diamond. It would be something forever, something strong, something that glinted in the sunlight. Where, without the other two sides, would the third face go then? Into the shadows, alone. Once again denying her heart what it wanted, Theresa could almost feel her soul splitting. But it wasn't her soul; it was her heart. And the point of the crystal pyramid had just cracked. Where the break would lead to, however, she wasn't sure. Until it was clean, she wouldn't know just what the break would divide and destroy.

Ethan watched as Theresa tortuously left his side, her heart breaking in her wake. He saw her quickly pull her clothes back together and do her best not to face him. Still, when she did, he was shocked to find just as much confusion on her face as on his own. Finally deciding that she couldn't be around him anymore, Theresa headed for the door with her tousled ponytail bouncing behind her.


	10. Eclipse

_**Chapter 9: **_**Eclipse **

For the first time in two years, Theresa didn't go to work. She gave River and Harold the day off and took her solace to deal with her depression and fear. She sat in the kitchen staring at a cold cup of tea and couldn't summon the energy to put it in the microwave. The day was half gone and all she'd accomplished was a cup of tea that had gone cold; she hadn't even gotten out of her pajamas.

Fox's image in the armchair had been haunting her since he left. But he hadn't had a gun and Ethan wasn't with her. But why was it so real? The doorbell caught her attention and she didn't act. Instead, she imagined the tea in front of her was red—the red that had spilled from Fox's temple when he pulled the trigger. The doorbell rang again and Theresa wondered why River hadn't answered it. That was when she remembered that she'd given him the day off. Huffing, she finally got up from the kitchen table and made her way down the small hallway to the foyer. The doorbell rang again and she suddenly realized that it was probably Fox come home early from his trip.

She was wrong.

She opened the door and stared into Ethan's face. He stood there looking demure and put together in his suit.

"Ethan… what—what are you doing here?!"

He stared at her for a brief moment before he answered her. "I called your office. Chris said you'd be here."

Quickly noting to yell at Chris later, Theresa put up a defense. "Why were you calling my office?"

"Because you haven't returned any of my calls, Theresa." His voice was soft, almost saturated with the promise of a whisper. "Why?"

Theresa turned her eyes down, almost as if hesitant or ashamed. "I thought we finished this conversation the other day, Ethan. This can't happen. It _won't_ happen." Ethan didn't say anything in return and simply took a step towards her, his eyes to the floor. "So what are you doing here? What do you want, Ethan?"

"I came to prove to you—"

"What?" she cut him off. "That I love you? Is this an ego thing?"

Ethan stared at her quietly, his eyes penetrating her as if scolding her with a glare. Not moving his eyes from hers, he reached out and took her face against his palm. "Say it."

She knew it was true and it always had been. And it always would be. But the consequences of admitting something like that after everything that had happened was just too much.

"Say it," he whispered again. "Theresa…"

Shaking her head and releasing his hold on her, she pulled away. "Stop it. I'm married to Fox, Ethan."

He pulled her close, her cheek pressed against the hard wall of his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat assaulting her, loosening her hold on the emotions she'd worked so hard to rein in ever since she'd first seen him at Dimension. And then he was kissing her, his mouth hot and sweet against hers, his fingers working at the ponytail, loosening her hair.

What was it about his kiss that shot a rush of pure adrenaline up her spine? Her good sense spiraled away from her and she struggled to snatch it back. She shouldn't have been kissing Ethan.

"Say it," he whispered against her mouth.

Eyes still closed and brain still reeling for his kiss, she struggled to concentrate on his words. "I…," she hesitated, her strength quick to dissipate.

Ethan pulled back to stare directly into her eyes when he spoke next. "You love me."

She tried pulling back, shaking her head. "No, Ethan."

"Yes." He gently pressed his lips against her jugular. "You love me." Ethan attached his lips to her neck knowing that she wouldn't be able to deny it much longer.

Theresa felt his lips on her skin, her resolve weakening before she could realize what was happening. "I can't," she persisted. "Please," she begged.

Ethan heard her words, but he knew that she was saying something else behind them. He couldn't listen to her denials, her refusals, or her protests. For all the right reasons, he knew he should listen to her. But all the wrong reasons told him that he loved her, that she was the one he couldn't live without. And he wasn't about to let her forget that.

He molded his body against hers. She felt the strong push of his erection against her stomach and her mind swirled with desire. He pulled against her behind and felt the firm roundness in his hands. His other hand slid down her ribcage and to her front. He slipped down inside her sweatpants and pressed hard on her skin. She wore no underwear and he could feel the light stubble grown over a few days. Her skin was soft and the little hairs felt like silk. There was something raw and animalistic about it to him and he groaned in desire. Ethan pushed his finger into the crease and pressed on the hard ball that would make her squirm. Theresa's body tingled with fervor and she gasped. Instinctively, her pelvis rocked forward and Ethan pressed harder. The hand that was holding her against him slid up to the back of her head and turned her to face him forcefully.

"Say it," he commanded again.

"Ethan, no."

His fingers rubbed against her clitoris again and her eyes rolled back. "Say it."

Biting her lip, she willed herself not to react to his touch. "I can't do this… to Fox…," she sighed.

"He can't make you feel this." Suddenly, Ethan could feel the slickness of her body's response and it surged his heartbeat. "Say it," he demanded again.

She took in another strong gasp as fire flooded into her torso. Her silence and the control he felt made everything heighten. She still didn't speak the words he wanted and he quickly plunged two fingers into her. She jerked and her lip quivered. At first, he knew the strength of his gesture had caused her pain but he eased and saw the shock and burn leave her eyes.

"Say it." As he spoke, almost instructing her of her consequences if she didn't give the answer he wanted, he pushed his fingers inside of her hard and fast.

She whimpered against him. "I….," she tried. Still, his fingers pressed harder inside of her and she shook.

"Yes...," he goaded her on, "say it."

Using his thumb, he drove her mind within the limits of sanity and he enjoyed it. She could feel a strong currant building within her and her concentration waned.

"I…," she tried again.

He approached closer to her mouth and breathed life into her lips. "You love me. Say it." His hand was now covered in what he could only think of tasting. "Say it."

Theresa's mind was beginning to lose concentration. Her body was going into response mode and she could only feel. She heard him give her the command again and she was trying to communicate with her lips what she needed to say. Only, her brain wasn't working the way it normally did.

"I—I love you," she finally managed.

Then his tongue was in her mouth and their lips sucked and nipped at each other. Their tongues fought and she moved her head to deepen his access. Between feeling his tongue against hers and having his fingers inside of her searching for the soft spot that would make her scream, she wasn't sure how much more she could take. Ethan simply felt the warmth against his mouth and in his hand and he knew that he had to have her. She was close and her walls were clamping against his fingers. Quickly pulling his hand out from her pants, he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He carried her and they kissed along the way. Eyes closed, Ethan did his best not to drop her or bump into anything. Through a small hallway they went and her back hit a wall. She pushed his jacket off and tugged at his tie. She needed to feel his skin against hers. His hard desire was growing and he had to get her down. Looking to his side, he made out the marble countertops of the kitchen. Grabbing Theresa again, Ethan moved to the kitchen and put her down on the marble island in the center of the room.

They kissed and both of them could barely breathe. Sweat was beginning to build on their bodies and Ethan pulled back quickly. He pulled her sweatpants down and moved her to the edge of the counter. Before she knew what was going on, Ethan was on his knees and his tongue made her see stars. Using his fingers to give him better access, Ethan licked and sucked at the hard bud. She shook and he had to hold her hips down. She spread her legs wider and thrust her pelvis towards his willing mouth. Ethan used the hard tip of his tongue on her nerves and she bucked. She tasted like sweet musk to him and surprising her, he thrust his tongue into her suddenly. She cried out and wavered above him. Unconsciously, she began fighting him off and he fought hard to keep her in place. He sucked and licked and the tingling began to spread into her fingertips. Her breathing was shallow and her fingers delved into his hair and pressed his head harder against her.

"Oh God, Ethan!" she screamed in pleasure.

He looked up at her and smiled. Ethan took his middle and pointer fingers and pushed them inside of her quickly. Her eyes were shut tightly and she quivered as he kissed her inner thigh. He teased her and he was enjoying it. Biting her lip, she pushed her pelvis to him for more. Ethan licked closer and closer towards the junction of her legs and he felt the small soft hairs against his tongue. Again finding the small ball of nerves, he flicked it hard with his tongue and sucked on her skin with his lips. As he entered his middle finger inside of her again, he could feel the shaking of her inner muscles mixed with her quick breathing and he knew she was hanging on the precipice. But he would tease her. He stopped and looked up at her.

"Look at me," he said quietly.

She opened her eyes, half-shaking from the sensation. Eyeing her, Ethan purposely flicked her clitoris again and she shook. He did it again and she pouted as she pulled his head closer. He hesitated and continued to tease her.

Remembering her protests from only minutes before, he teased her even more. "Do you want me to stop? Tell me to stop," he said in a deep voice.

At first Theresa was confused. She could think of no reason why on earth she'd want him to stop and she couldn't understand why he would be asking her such a stupid question. But as she realized that he was no longer doing anything but staring at her intently and waiting for her response, she found that he was serious in his question and was taking pleasure in it.

Shaking her head, she tried to get the words out as her body began building a halt to the pleasure. "No, don't—don't stop! Don't you dare stop!"

That was all the reassurance he needed before he finished her. He sucked and bit and licked and nibbled and her body shook uncontrollably and she crashed her hands on the counter behind her as the climax engulfed her. Screaming, she came with his head against her. Still testing how much she could take, he continued to slide his finger in and out of her and he started building something that wouldn't die. He blew softly on her inner thighs and she thought she would burn. Using his tongue again, he brought her to more climaxes one right after the other. By the end of the last one, she was so sensitive that it was beginning to hurt if he tongued her again. He stopped and let her calm.

Finally getting off his knees, he held her, his kiss on her neck. She still shook in sensitivity and she smiled as she held onto him. They stood like that for a minute as he allowed her to catch her breath. Ethan was aching. Seeing her respond to his actions like that drove him crazy. Not having forgotten how he'd pleased her, Theresa reached down to his crotch and squeezed. His head threw back and his mouth opened in shock of the touch. She looked up at him through her heavy black lashes with pure lust. Ethan sucked his bottom lip and stared deeply at her. With a seductive smile, she pushed him back and slowly stood from the counter. Still grasping his hardened erection, she crouched low to the floor and began removing his pants.

Ethan watched her as she pulled his pants down to his ankles. Theresa stared at the boxer briefs that were stretched across his pelvis. Even a boring color like gray couldn't hide the beauty of what lay hidden inside. She could see the prominent outline of something being restrained by the fabric. Staring up at him, she lightly moved her fingertips across the shape. Ethan's hip twitched and he smirked down at her when he saw that she was already anxious to release him. Seemingly almost afraid, Theresa slowly pulled down the wrapping that kept him bound and he leapt out in a straight extension.

He suddenly wasn't sure if he would be able to continue standing. Relaxing her jaw and opening her mouth, she ran her tongue along the bottom vein and he shook. Slowly and inch by inch, Theresa lowered her mouth onto him. With every movement, Theresa took him deeper. The heat and moistness of her mouth was driving him crazy. Her lips contracted around him when her head came closer and her tongue moved against him inside her mouth.

Sucking with her lips everywhere her tongue had just been only made him harder and she loved it. Theresa sucked the head and watched as it turned redder and redder with the suction and blood flow. Ethan's breathing grew in pace and he was almost whistling as he sucked in breaths through his teeth. He tried to use rhythmic breathing to restrain himself; he concentrated on each move of his diaphragm and every exhale of his lungs. Still, with everything she was doing, it was difficult to not feel and let his body take over as was his natural instinct.

Ethan's hands unconsciously went to grasp the sides of her face, but he had to restrain himself. He knew that it wasn't his turn to take control… yet. His head fell back and he gently began rolling his hips forward into her mouth. Pushing too forcefully caught Theresa unprepared and her throat made a struggle to close before anything might make her choke. Apologetically, Ethan pulled back and moved some fallen strands of hair from the front of her face to let her know that he'd give her access again. Ethan watched her below him and when she occasionally opened her eyes to stare up at him, he thought he'd lose control.

Theresa continued to suck and lick where she knew he'd like best and she surely got the responses she wanted. His moaning and breathing hitched in his chest and Theresa loved it. Slowing down and trying to make him go easy, Theresa only licked the tip and swirled her tongue around. She could taste the minute metallic salt that his body was fighting to both contain and release. Teasing him, Theresa licked and lightly nibbled on the skin around his groin, his inner thighs, and his low abs until he was begging her to return to her original position.

Ethan could feel the tightening in his body right before everything fell loose. Her mouth was wet and slick and warm and inviting. Just not nearly as what he really wanted. He saw that Theresa had no intention of showing him any mercy and reining back any control he still had over his body, he pulled her up to him.

He needed to show her that his body craved her and wanted her closer. Quickly pulling her to him and picking her up, he moved to the nearest wall and her back hit against it. Her legs were around his waist, the close access near driving him mad. He used the wall to support her weight and angled her hips down. Giving her one last look of passion, Ethan pushed himself inside of her in one strong and hard movement. Theresa cried out, the sharpness and sudden pain hit near her navel. Still, against the bitter burning, Theresa pulled at his back, bringing him closer to hers. Frustration and anger took over Ethan as he relentlessly pounded into her, his thrusts deep and hard into her body.

He was not gentle; he did not make love to her. No. It was not about love. It was something much more savage that was taking over. He filled her and she screamed, "Ahhhh!" The sound lingered between them as if she repeated the sound over and over again. Then Ethan pulled back and pushed in forcefully. "Ahh!" she cried again. And he knew he'd hurt her. But he didn't care.

Thrust.

"Ah!"

Thrust.

"Ah!"

Thrust.

"Ah!"

Ethan knew that he had to slow down soon or it would be over and he couldn't let that happen. He stopped thrusting and pulled her body to his with his strong arms. Spinning quickly, Ethan let her back fall to the marble countertop and flipped her legs over his shoulders. Quickly and deeply, he was inside of her again. Theresa hadn't opened her eyes and didn't know what was happening until her back hit the cold marble. Ethan bent down to her, his strength waning. As he rocked into her, Theresa stretched her neck, her jaw tight and straight up. Ethan couldn't deny the invitation and licked softly, his tongue lightly leading out and tasting her skin. Back and forth, deeper and deeper he pushed and he could feel the pulsating in his erection becoming faster and stronger.

There was no more control.

Ethan stood straight up and held her calves high against his shoulders, bringing the lower half of her body completely off the countertop. Ethan plunged himself into her, each time deeper and faster than the last. The pain and the excitement started filtering together for Ethan. The panic of the coming crash was somehow blurring together with the inability to feel so much pleasure at once. In the sudden waves of emotion and sensation, Ethan moaned. His desire to release was mixed in with the painful pleasure he felt at not yet having done so.

He groaned again and he started to shake. Theresa could feel that he was almost there when his actions became desperate. She was sure that he was bruising her inside with the power of his thrusts, but still she clung to him. Ethan went faster. And faster. And faster. And then he screamed. His arms suddenly weak as if drained of adrenaline, Ethan dropped his hold on Theresa's legs and fell to her chest. Her breathing was quick, but slowing. Ethan listened to her heart, its beating still drumming a strong call of war.

They held each other in a still moment, their naked skin stuck in heat and sweat. Minutes went by, long and stretched out minutes. Finally deciding that his heart was beating at a normal pace, Ethan angled his mouth to place a kiss on her open chest before getting up. Theresa stayed on the countertop, her blood still calming. She didn't move but knew that Ethan had crossed the room in search of a napkin. Pulling a sheet from the roll of paper towels near the coffeemaker, Ethan cleaned himself of their mixture.

"Ethan…," Theresa called.

After throwing the paper towel away, Ethan bent down over her again. "Shhh…"

He quieted her with a kiss. He pulled her up with him so that she was sitting upright. Theresa's hands wandered over his shoulders to the sharp bulges of his biceps. Pulling apart their kiss, Theresa smiled and sucked on her bottom lip. Ethan smiled back at her and watched as she jumped off the countertop.

"Come here," she whispered close to him before taking his hand. And Ethan watched the naked curves of her body as she led him down the hallway and up the stairs.

______

Fox bowed after the doorman and let the door close softly. He was tired, the long day of negotiations pleasantly behind him. Loosening the tie around his neck, he walked to the large window panes that looked over greater Tokyo. The city never seemed to sleep; there were always lights, cars, shows, and people everywhere. Suddenly Fox was wishful of his quiet realm of Harmony. Thinking of Harmony took his thoughts to Theresa… his beautiful Theresa.

The sun was going down and he knew that her day was just beginning on the other side of the world. He wondered if, in his absence, she would be with Ethan. The thought hurt and plunged into his heart like a hot blade.

Thinking back to Theresa, he remembered her pleading before he left. She'd been acting very strangely and it was almost as if his leaving had really frightened her. But he couldn't understand why. He would only be gone a few short days. He'd spent his entire flight worried about her but even though he went through every possible scenario as to why she'd been so scared of him leaving, he couldn't come up with a plausible explanation.

Sitting in his meeting with Mr. Tomikayo, he debated and wondered whether or not he should call her. But he eventually decided against it. If there was something wrong, she would tell him. Wouldn't she?

Stretching his brows with his hand, Fox finally came up with a solution that would settle his mind without having to doubt her. Yawning, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

Across the world in Harmony, she woke quickly to the buzzing of her phone. Straining her eyes to focus on the ID, she immediately perked up and flipped it open.

"Hello?" the sleepy and raspy voice answered.

"Hey, Whit. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Fox said softly.

"No," she yawned. "What time is it?" He heard her scramble to reach her alarm clock. "I should be getting up soon anyway."

"Still, I should have called you later."

"It's okay. Really," she assured. "How are you?" It sounded like she had just hoisted herself to sit upright.

"I'm fine, I guess. I'm in Hong Kong on business."

"Oh," she yawned. "How's it going?"

Fox was going to answer but he knew it wasn't fair to wake her for small talk. "Whit, can I ask you a favor?"

She yawned again. "Yeah, sure."

Thinking long and hard about what he was just about to ask her, Fox took a long moment before answering. "Would you—would you check on Theresa for me?"

Whitney was suddenly awake and sat up straighter. "Check on her? Why?"

Again Fox remembered how Theresa clung to him and seemed shaken as he held her. "She was acting really strange yesterday before I left. I just want to make sure she's okay."

"Well… _is_ she okay?" Whitney was concerned and confused since her best friend hadn't confided any reason to act stranger lately.

"I think so," Fox admitted. "But I don't know… it was almost like she didn't think she would see me again. It seemed odd to me."

Whitney wasn't sure how to take that. "Is it… do you think… she wouldn't." They both contemplated the thought of just what Theresa thought. If she seemed to think she wouldn't see Fox again, something screamed inside Whitney for fear of what her friend might do.

"No, I'm not really sure what to think. It could be nothing. But would you check on her, please?"

"Sure, yeah. I'll go see her as soon as I can."

Fox smiled and walked over to the large square bed covered in Japanese silk. "Thank you, Whit. Thank you."

Whitney waited for him to say something else but all she got was a dial tone as he hung up.

______

Dusk was casting a gray light through her bedroom window. She opened her eyes and found an expanse of flesh staring at her. With each rhythmic breath, his back expanded as his ribs moved. She stared at his flat and muscular back, the bend into his hips, the curve and muscular roundness of his butt, the arms that she loved to hold, and the hair that she'd tangled her hands in. Theresa smiled to herself, a sense of peace and calamity washing through her.

Theresa lifted herself onto her elbow to try to see his face. His lips were a dusky pinkish-red, slightly parted for the entrance of air. His cheeks bore the light stubble of a day's growth and his lids fluttered slightly in REM cycles. Inching closer, she smiled down at him, a deep surge of love filling her heart.

"Ethan...," she whispered softer than wind.

Not waking him, she blew softly on his shoulder to see if it would disrupt his slumber. Immediately she saw the body response as hairs stood on his neck. Even sleeping, he responded to her.

"Ethan…," she tried again.

Still he slept. Rippling her fingers against his shoulder very lightly, she tried to lean in closer to his face. He looked almost like a child. Smiling again with her wicked thought, Theresa jumped on him, her small body hitting against his back and he was suddenly awake. Laughing, he turned and took her in his arms. Theresa folded into him willingly and wrapped her arms around his torso.

"I was having a very good dream," he whispered against her temple before he laid a kiss there.

"Yeah?" She looked up at him. "Of what?"

"This." Ethan leaned to her lips and kissed her slowly and deeply.

"Mmm…," she moaned into his mouth. "Good dream."

They smiled at each other and simply laid staring into each other's eyes. Ethan traced his sight past her eyebrows, through her eyes, over her nose, across her lips, all over her face and he was amazed; she could never have been more beautiful to him. Theresa couldn't believe the love swelling in her heart. She'd always wanted to wake up in his arms and not care about anything else but the moment they were in. They held the stare for a very long time, neither willing to look anywhere else. Ethan could almost hear the words her heart was struggling to get out.

"What?" he smiled.

She took a long pause before she answered. "I love you, Ethan."

Ethan stared at her, a smile hard to hide. "I know," he whispered close to her mouth. Then his lips claimed hers. The kiss was gentle and she fell into it without a fight. "I love you… so much that it hurts," he admitted.

Theresa thought she would cry when she heard that it caused him pain. Her hand, curled between them, suddenly went to his chest just over his heart. He covered her hand with his own, somehow silently letting her know that it was worth the pain.

"It hurts when I'm not with you, Theresa."

Scared to cry, she swallowed the lump in her throat as best she could. "Kiss me."

And he did. In their pain, in their anguish, in their happiness, in their awe, they fell into the blaze that never found control. Quickly realizing what was happening, Theresa rolled over him and opened her legs around his waist. Ethan's body responded to her sudden claim of control and he eagerly caressed the skin of her bare back. Their tongues sparred and their breathing became ragged in sudden desire. Pressing her palms against the shapely pectorals of his chest, Theresa pushed him back from their kiss. Hungrily, she stared down at him. They both suddenly became very aware of their naked and accessible bodies. It hadn't taken them any longer than a few minutes to ready for the moment; Ethan was hard and Theresa was wet and they were going to use their bodies' natural responses to their full advantage.

Theresa grinded against him and watched as his eyes darkened. Tilting her hips backward, she reached for him, the soft hardness strong in her hand. She pulled up and down, stroking and squeezing until his breathing was hitched a few notches. Ethan stopped her with his hand, not in the mood for foreplay. Theresa understood what he wanted. Pulling her legs to his sides so that her feet were pressed against the bed, she lifted herself just enough to allow him entrance to her body. Without his help, Theresa took his erection—that had become red in excitement—in her grasp and guided him slowly. Ethan watched from below as she crouched and positioned the tip of his member. He could feel the warm, wet sheath against the most sensitive part of his body and he was filled with the lust for more. Even though his hips made an instinctual buck upwards, Theresa stayed where she was, hovering agonizingly above him. Staring into his dark sapphire eyes, Theresa held herself open with two fingers and watched him watch her slide onto him slowly.

He filled her completely and Theresa suddenly felt occupied and crowded—but in a good way; their bodies were made for each other. As the tip hit her cervix, slow as it was, the dull pain hit her. She knew that his force and power from earlier would leave her sore within. She moaned as she sunk onto him, still it was her instinct to pull her hips up. Pushing against his chest with her palms for leverage, she fell on him and rose, and fell and rose. Again and again. Each time just as deep and just as slow.

Ethan was in heaven. He loved the dominating side of Theresa and couldn't complain against the immense pleasure that was coursing through him. Every time Theresa's body thrust down against him, he could hear his skin thump against her behind. Theresa wanted more and began rotating her hips forward and back, almost rocking. Ethan's mind frenzied. Now she was stimulating in three ways: with the fluid rotation of her hips, the hitting of her cervix, and the slippery warmth.

She rocked and fell, rocked and fell, up and down, back and forth. He thought he would die. Still, with everything he was feeling, he needed more speed. Ethan then grabbed her hips with his hands and guided her in the speed that he wanted. Pulling her hips forward sharply, he thrust his hips upwards and she cried out. Whether it was in pleasure or in pain, he wasn't sure. But he didn't stop. He led her and she followed. Ethan watched her body from below, his desire deepening as he did so. Her breasts jumped up and down with each movement, her stomach was stretched and taut and Ethan imagined himself inside of her and just how far he lodged.

Ethan had no choice but to relinquish control and in so doing, his body refused to listen to his limits. With a strong surge and a hard fall of Theresa's body, his throat let out a hard moan and it was over. Slowly working him, Theresa led his sensations back down and could suddenly feel the warm fluid seeping from her body. Theresa stopped and leaned over him, her chest pressed to his and she kissed him.

_______

Theresa woke up refreshed and at ease. The sheet around her was cool on her skin but the air was even cooler; she pulled the sheet around her closer. She turned to her side ready to embrace the naked body next to her, but he wasn't there. Theresa quickly sat up and searched the dawn-lit room for Ethan. She scanned from wall to wall and she only found furniture.

Scared and beginning to quiver, Theresa called out for him. "Ethan?"

She searched the shadows of her room hoping he would come out. She looked to the closet doors, the bathroom doors… Nothing. She was alone. Everything was beginning to swirl in her mind until reality seemed like a vortex of colors. Before she could begin thinking of controlling them, tears fell from her eyes and she did her best to keep her lungs quiet in her pain.

Alone, naked, cold, and scared, Theresa sat in her bed. Tears fell and fell and she wished that the hole that was beginning to rip open in her heart would cease; she could already feel the pain tearing through her soul. She wanted to believe that Ethan was right next to her. She wanted to believe that he would come from wherever he was and surprise her. She wanted to believe that he hadn't left her. But the evidence around her wouldn't let her. She had to accept it: Ethan was gone.

How could he? Ethan wasn't the kind of man that would just leave her; especially after what they'd just shared—the emotional and physical exchange that lovers shared. He wouldn't… And thinking about how he'd done just what she thought he wouldn't, she suddenly began crying even more.

Theresa stared out the window and searched the sky for something that had to be laughing at her. Someone, somewhere, knew that everything she had ever tried to accomplish resulted in failure and heartache. And she couldn't stand it.

Everything of the past two year pounded onto her from somewhere she didn't understand. Painful memories that she'd vowed to keep locked away had suddenly found their voice within her memory and were haunting her with a vengeance that would be sure to kill her. Trying to guard herself from the hole that was growing in her chest, she crumpled to the bed and begged her eyes to stop crying.

Memories were like movies in her brain. Everything from her wedding to Ethan and everything in between played and played as if there was no stop button. And with every image that seemed more real than the last, more and more tears flooded into her eyes.

"Ethan…," she sobbed, the pain not wanting to cease.

And then there were hands on her. Big hands; strong hands; familiar hands. Someone took her small body in their arms and cradled her against them. She fell into the curves of the body and her head fell against a hard chest. She waited, almost scaring herself into looking up to identify the person. That's when his voice told her.

"Oh my God, Theresa," he sighed into her hair. "What's wrong?"

Stunned, Theresa looked up, her eyes tear-filled, her face wet and streaked. "Ethan!" Her red eyes stared into his, her shock and confusion all blurring into another emotion that would make her cry.

A fully-clothed Ethan stared down at her in his arms, not sure as to what to do or what to say. All he knew was that she was extremely distraught and he just hoped with everything he knew that it wasn't because of what had happened between them. Just as he was about to ask her what was wrong, she threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Oh, Ethan. I thought you left," she cried.

And the words cut into him like she had just used the fiercest sword against his flesh. It was his fault that she was in agony. Again. She thought he'd left her. _She thought he'd left her_. How could he? The thought of leaving her caused him more pain than she was in. There was no way that he would ever leave her again. Cursing himself, Ethan pulled her closer to his body and wrapped his hand at the base of her head.

"I could never leave you, Theresa," he sighed. "Never."

Theresa clung to him in relief and joy and sadness and pain and fear. She begged him with a silent heartbeat to never leave her again; she wouldn't survive it. Even after her tears had passed, Theresa stayed in his arms, her face against his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she smelled his skin and reveled in the scent. He was just as tender, just as protective and she could never feel safer than in his arms.

"Hey," Ethan called, pulling back to look at her. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Theresa gave a weak smile in return for she knew that the thought of him leaving her would hurt more than it ever had. "Where did you go?" she asked as her shiny eyes searched his.

Ethan smiled down at her. His thumb traced her bottom lip before he kissed it. Confused, Theresa watched as he silentlystood and walked over to the door. There, on the floor, was a large wooden breakfast tray with food on it. Ethan bent down to the handles on the sides and brought the tray to her. Theresa stared at the display in awe. She suddenly felt extremely foolish for thinking that he would have just left her without saying anything.

"Oh, Ethan…," she sighed. "You…" And she didn't even know what else to say. The food staring at her was among her favorites and she was almost angry at herself for having thought the worst.

"I thought you might be hungry when you woke up," he explained after he sat down next to her.

Smiling, Theresa lifted her chin up and invited Ethan to her. He willingly met her with a soft kiss against her lips. "Thank you." With a sigh, Theresa let her head fall back against his shoulder and snuggled closer when he wrapped his arms around her body.

They ate the food together, alternately feeding each other with their fingers. They laughed and giggled and kissed and cuddled. For a few moments, they were happier than they'd been in years. After the food was gone, Ethan turned Theresa to him and stared at her. They held the stare for a long time, both of them waiting for something, but yet not knowing what they were waiting for.

"What?" she finally asked.

Ethan didn't say anything. Holding the intense stare for another moment, he traced a strand of hair behind her ear. Something was confusing Theresa, but the fear that she felt from before wasn't settling in. She was sure that there was something that Ethan wanted to say to her but she wasn't sure what it was. She knew there was nothing she had to say to him—there was nothing that she needed to say. Everything she wanted and needed him to know was in her heart and he was the only one that would ever have the decoding ability to understand.

Breaking the silence, Ethan spoke: "There's something else, too." Waiting for Ethan to continue, Theresa stared at him, her own anticipation and zeal starting to overwhelm her. He didn't. Instead, Ethan reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out a small box. It was a small, maroon velvet box and he carefully placed it in her palm.

"No, Ethan. I—I… can't…," she said quickly.

Ethan knew that it wasn't the gesture that she wasn't willing to accept. Just seeing the small jewelry box is what got her thinking there was something else inside and he laughed.

"It's okay, Theresa. Open it."

Scared, Theresa looked at the box. She wasn't sure what was inside but she almost didn't want to know. If it was a ring—as she suspected—she wouldn't be able to accept it even if she wanted to. She still wore her husband's ring on her finger, even if she had just spent the last few hours with another man. Her hands were nervous and started a small shake as she gingerly took the box in her hand and began lifting the top. When it was fully opened, there, in the black satin, sat something gold.

"There was a little shop right across from the café I went to," Ethan explained.

Theresa stared at the small gold object. It caught the rising sunlight coming in through the window and glinted at her. It was beautiful; intricate lines carved in the gold giving it the detail it needed. A small golden sun sat against the black satin inside the box. The rays curved to the left and almost made it look like a spiral. On top ray was a small little loop that was attached to a thin golden chain. It was simple but it was beautiful.

"Oh, Ethan…," she sighed. "It's beautiful." Ethan smiled back at her when she gave him a thankful smile. "Really, I love it."

Ethan took the box from her and lifted the charm from the satin crease. Surprising her when he pulled the chain out, it wasn't a necklace. It was a bracelet. Ethan pulled the clasp between his fingernails and gestured for her arm.

"You know, the jeweler told me that the sun symbolizes rebirth," he whispered as he closed the clasp and let the bracelet hang on her wrist. "Everyday, no matter what, the sun always comes back out; it never goes away. And it's the only thing that continues to burn brighter and hotter than when it first started out."

Theresa just stared at him, her own amazement showing clearly on her face. He was right. Their love, like the sun, did continue to gather flame with the years that had passed. She knew it was no ordinary light that eventually would begin to flicker before it gave out and suffocated with the lack of oxygen. No. Their love was different, special. With every passing moment, it seemed, their feelings burned brighter and hotter than ever.

Until the day the fire grew too hot and exploded into a black hole that sucked everything into it.

Theresa looked at the sun made of gold that dangled right below her wrist now. Almost as if knowing something she did not, it seemed to smile at her. The light coming through the window made it glint and she could suddenly feel the swelling in her chest, almost as if her heart was growing. She smiled up at him and took in his features. He seemed at peace just watching her, his quiet strength shining through his eyes.

"Thank you," she told him simply.

Ethan looked down to the bracelet and felt pleased with himself to see it on her wrist; she was now wearing something that he gave her and he felt extraordinarily possessive in that moment. He traced the gold along her skin and grazed his finger to her inner wrist and into her palm. He folded his fingers between hers and squeezed lightly.

"You're welcome." His voice was heavy, soft, and whispered with sincerity.

They stared at each other then, both internally debating between speaking and acting on their desires. There was so much they wanted to say and so much they wanted to do. Without being able to decide, Theresa simply laid her head into his shoulder and took in his scent. Immediately, Ethan wrapped his arm around her and held her as close as he could.

______

Whitney had called Theresa's office and only Chris had answered. He'd told her that Theresa took the day off. At first, Whitney though he was kidding. Theresa had never taken a day off of work. Whitney knew that it was probably rooted in her unhappiness, but still, Theresa never missed work. Fox had seemed genuinely concerned and shaken when she'd spoken to him last. Theresa hadn't mentioned anything and it was weird that her best friend didn't tell her something that was so obviously bothering her. After hanging up with Fox, and after another hour of sleep, Whitney began the drive to the huge Crane Estate.

The wrought iron gates pulled open and Whitney pulled up into the cul-de-sac. With Theresa and her usual crazy antics on Whitney's mind, she didn't even pay attention to the black car parked in front of her and simply dismissed it as the limo that was Theresa's private escort. Whitney mentally tried preparing herself to either scold her friend or offer her comfort. Which one it was, though, she had to idea.

She walked up the stairs to the two large front doors and waited for one to open at her presence. Whitney stared up, then down, then closely at the doors and still no River. It was odd, she decided. River was always on the lookout and never made her wait for more than thirty seconds or so. Whitney learned close to a window and cupped her hands around her eyes to see inside. She didn't see anyone. Still, she searched for River or even Theresa. But neither was around. Finally deciding that it was weird not to be greeted and let in like usual, Whitney let herself in. Fortunately for her, the door was never locked due to the state-of-the-art security system in place on the estate. There was a soft click as the door closed behind her. Whitney stared around the foyer and found nothing unusual.

"Theresa?" Whitney called softly.

There was no response. It was odd that River was still not rushing to the doors. Whitney went past the short hallway and into the kitchen. Whitney's heart stopped. The counters and the table had been pushed clean of everything. Pots, pans, plates, fruit, broken glasses, and clothes were strewn about the floor. With evidence of a violent struggle, Whitney desperately ran back out to the foyer and up the stairs calling Theresa's name in panic.

_Fox was right_, Whitney thought. _There was something wrong._

Suddenly violent images of an attacker against Theresa came to view. Masked men and weapons, fighting and pain… Theresa. Whitney was scared. She tore her head into every room she passed and her fear mounted as every one passed by empty. Half for Theresa and half her own.

Up on the third floor, Whitney continued her search and tried to pass the tears that were beginning to build. Theresa was in trouble! As she got up the stairs to the third floor, Whitney thought she heard something. It sounded like voices coming from the master bedroom towards the east wing. Whitney froze, afraid of what she would find. She imagined the worst: Theresa being forced against her will and raped in her own home, a burglar tying her up, a thief holding her for ransom, a disgruntled Crane employee taking his revenge… Every thought got more and more violent and more and more bloody. There was a moan and Whitney ran towards the open bedroom. Finally facing her fear, she burst through but she didn't find the horrible scene she'd expected.

Theresa was fine. Naked—but fine.

Theresa was half-wrapped in a white sheet with Ethan sitting next to her, his arms were around her securely as if locked in place. Unlike Theresa, Ethan was fully dressed. The two didn't even notice Whitney, both too concerned in what their lips were doing. Whitney stared, her shock freezing her in place. She couldn't even process the scene in front of her that it made some sort of sense. Ethan let loose a small moan and Theresa pulled him closer and his hand pulled the sheet past her chest and took a breast against his palm.

"Theresa." Whitney decided it better to interject before she had to bear witness to something she didn't care to see.

Both Ethan and Theresa stopped and looked up at the door to the voice. Whitney stared back at them, her disapproval clear on her face. Still so shocked at what was taking place right in front of her, Whitney could say nothing else. Theresa quickly pulled the sheet up to where she'd been exposed and wiped her mouth with her fingers. Ethan looked from the intruder and back down to the woman against him. And back again. Finally deciding that he was in the wrong, he turned Theresa's chin up to him with his index finger.

"I should go," he whispered.

Theresa offered him a half-pout and let him kiss her.

"I love you," he said as he pulled back.

Theresa leaned forward and kissed him again. "I love you, too."

Ethan finally got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket from the floor. Whitney could only stare after him when he walked past her. Both Whitney and Theresa waited for the sound of the door closing downstairs before turning back to each other. When the door clicked closed, Whitney finally turned her attention back to Theresa who sat waiting—like a disobedient student—for the lecture to come.

Still in shock, Whitney was trying to piece together the floating words in her brain. Theresa cowered and lowered her eyes from her friend's penetrating ones. Suddenly feeling the chill, without Ethan to warm her, Theresa bunched the sheet higher against her in an effort to shield her skin. Theresa waited and waited and still nothing was said.

"Say something," Theresa finally said, breaking the uncomfortable-growing silence. Whitney hands were cinched around her waist.

"Say what? What, Theresa?" They stared at each other; battling eyes of apology, guilt, and conviction. "Theresa, what are you doing?"

Suddenly, Theresa could hear that Whitney's voice was growing louder with each word.

"What are you thinking? Do you enjoy hurting Fox?"

"No!" Theresa cried. "It's not like that!"

"No? Then what is it, Theresa? What could make you cheat on your husband? And in his own bed no less!"

They again held a long and heavy stare.

"I love him, Whit."

It was almost as if she'd been punched by an invisible fist that had sharply cut through the air. Whitney nodded sarcastically.

"Yeah. So that justifies cheating on your husband? The husband that loves you more than anything, Theresa! Fox is a good man, Theresa. He doesn't deserve this!"

"I know!" Theresa countered quickly.

Whitney could hear the pain in her friend's voice and was struck by it. "Then… why, Theresa? Why are you doing this?"

Theresa thought about the question and wandered her eyes away from Whitney's pressing ones. As if the answer would be found in her hands, Theresa looked down. The small golden sun smiled up at her. Suddenly a face came into view and a cloudy fog engulfed her.

Ethan was her sun—her beacon of light. Theresa couldn't answer her friend. The only answer that she could come up with was that she loved Ethan. But still, in her sane mind, she knew that wasn't a good enough reason to destroy her husband.

"I just…," Theresa tried, but nothing justifiable came to mind. She could not look back up to Whitney.

"So… since that lunch that Fox set up?"

At the words, Theresa remembered how angry she was at Ethan, how pained she was, and how everything melted with the rain. Their bodies pressed to each other on the wharf, water trickling down their faces as their mouths fought against each other. Her mind had screamed at her when she kissed him and made her pull back. Then against her better judgment, she followed Ethan home in the intention of escaping the rain. Or was that all? After getting to his apartment, Theresa had given in and they spent the entire night reliving what their dreams constantly created.

Theresa's skin suddenly flushed as she remembered how she and Ethan had just partaken in the same screaming, moaning, touching, and shaking as the night of the lunch. For a brief instant, she could feel Ethan's tongue against her neck, his lips on hers, his hands caressing all over her skin, his nails digging into her hips, his weight on top of her, his hard moans against her ear, his flexing muscles under her hands as he thrust…

"Theresa!" Whitney called back her attention.

Theresa was quickly torn from the fantasy-like reality and memory and she had to shake her head to push all flooding desire from her present; it wasn't easy for her to completely forget what Ethan did to her.

"How long?" Whitney said, this time harder.

"That was the first time," Theresa admitted.

Of course, Whitney already knew. But after Theresa told her that Ethan would not allow it to continue, Whitney was sure nothing else would ever happen.

"You lied to me," Whitney claimed. "You said that he ended it after the first night, Theresa!"

For a quick instant, before her defense came up, Theresa didn't know why her friend was getting so upset. "He did! He did!" Theresa insisted.

"Then what is this?" Theresa swallowed the guilty lump in her throat. "The other day… when Fox invited him over to discuss some contracts…"

"What?" Whitney interrupted. "You waited politely for Fox to leave the room?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

There were tears in Theresa's eyes. _Does she really think me a horrible person?_ Theresa thought.

"No, Whit," she tried past the few tears that fell. "It wasn't like that."

Whitney heard the pain in her voice and felt guilt. It wasn't her intention to make her friend cry. She felt bad and lowered the angry wall she'd put up between them. Whitney went to sit next to her friend on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Theresa sniffed and tried her best to wipe away any black mascara stains from under her lashes. "It's just… it just… happened," Theresa confessed. "He was just here and he wanted to talk to me…" Whitney could see the pain in Theresa's eyes as she recalled the beginning of her current situation. "And I tried to walk away. But he wouldn't let me. He kept reminding me of…" She trailed off thinking better of giving her friend all the details. "And then he was so close… touching me… and it just happened."

Whitney's eyes went big. "You had sex with Ethan when Fox was in the house, Theresa?!" Somehow Whitney's tone reminded Theresa of her mother reprimanding her.

"No," Theresa defended. "It didn't get that far."

Whitney nodded slowly. "But it eventually did, huh?"

Theresa finally looked back up to her friend apologetically. The sadness and guilt was evident in her eyes. "I had a dream, Whit. Ethan and I were having an affair and somehow Fox found out and…" She could barely bring herself to say the words. "And then… Fox found out." And she had to swallow hard to keep from welling up too much emotion. "He waited for us. And he… and he… he had a gun," she cried. Tears were falling freely now. "He said he loved me and then…" This time, Theresa looked up to her friend. "He pulled the gun up to his head… and he pulled the trigger."

Whitney imagined the scene that Theresa had dreamt of and suddenly felt the pain and anguish of what it must have been to see Fox kill himself.

Theresa tried her best to shake her memory of the dream and the blood that haunted her reality. But it was pointless. The gun, the blood, the pain, the tears had all become part of something that she couldn't escape, something that became more and more real with each action she took. When another wave of tears hit Theresa's eyes, Whitney moved closer to her.

"Oh, sweetie. I'm so sorry." Whitney let her face into an embrace of comfort.

Theresa sobbed quietly into Whitney's shoulder and did her best to focus on Ethan, her sun. Warmth. But Fox was her moon, and she couldn't escape him either. They were both rotating and endlessly hovering bodies around her, the light that fought away the darkness left by the absence of the sun. She couldn't live without either of them, but there was one, if it got in front of the other, that would kill her.

Whitney smoothed Theresa's head and tried to ease her crying. Eventually Theresa was able to let the tears pass.

"Hey," Whitney pulled back. It was just a dream, okay? Fox is fine."

And then Whitney offered a small smile before she hugged Theresa again. Theresa knew that Whitney was right about the dream, but it was so much more than that, it was a warning.

"I don't know what to do, Whit," Theresa confessed.

On one hand, Theresa knew what she _should_ do. And she knew what wanted. Still, they almost didn't matter. They weren't the same and that's what killed her. She knew that walking away from Ethan this time wouldn't only be harder, but it would probably kill her in the process. After everything they'd recently shared, there was no way that she'd be able to ignore what was in her heart and go on with her life like their souls hadn't become even more attached.

But at the same time, she couldn't just leave Fox to blow in the wind by himself. When he was probably the best and more selfless man she knew. Could she really break his heart? Could she take the risk of her dream becoming a reality? The answer was simple. But what she felt wasn't. There was never anything simple about the ways she felt about Ethan. And her marriage to a good and kind man couldn't have been more complicated. Sometimes she wished she could take a knife and plunge it into her heart—that would cure everything and then she thought about it and she knew she couldn't exist in any way without Ethan. She couldn't leave him.

And then she was back to her purgatorial hell between the men that reigned over her heart and soul—sun and moon.

Whitney's heart hurt for both Theresa and Ethan. But her soul was bleeding for Fox. She knew that he was inevitably the one to get the most hurt out of the situation. He didn't deserve it at all, she knew. But there wasn't anything she could do to prevent the suffering that he was sure to endure. Flares of hatred burning in her chest for the woman sobbing in front of her. But Whitney had to push those away quickly. Her feelings didn't matter.

The two spent the next few hours talking and lounging. The day was gone before they knew it and Whitney took the darkness as a sign for her departure. The two friends hugged and Whitney told Theresa that everything would work out for the best. Theresa simply offered a small smile in return and let her friend walk herself out. Whitney shook her head as she walked through the dark foyer.

_Theresa's crazy,_ she thought.

More than anyone else, Whitney was familiar with the history and the constant war that waged between Ethan and Theresa's hearts. Sighing with a large breath, Whitney swung her purse to her shoulder and pulled open the front door. She almost lurched forward when she quickly stopped. Saying nothing, she stepped out and closed the door behind her before facing Ethan.

"Oh," he said, surprised to see her. "Hey, Whit."

Whitney glared down at him, her eyes squinting in anger. "What are you doing here, Ethan?" Ethan felt as if he were suddenly a child again and being scolded in a corner. When he didn't answer, Whitney took the opportunity to continue. "Stay away from her, Ethan."

They both eyed each other, their glares suspicious and full of warning.

"I can't," Ethan finally said simply. He took a step back and held his arms to the sides in an empty gesture.

"What about Fox? Your own brother, Ethan. What about him?" Ethan's guilt made him turn away from the woman confronting him. "You need to leave, Ethan. Just stay away from her."

With that, Whitney thought her message straightforward enough and began walking past him. Suddenly, Ethan grabbed her arm and kept her from walking any further away from him. Whitney gasped when his strong fingers grabbed around her small arm.

"Let. Me. Go." Her anger had suddenly risen and her tone was evident of that. Ethan took a second before releasing her arm from his grasp and looked at her apologetically.

"I can't stay away from her," he finally admitted.

Whitney stared at him with the same anger in her eyes. "Try harder." Her voice was cold, hard, and demeaning. She began walking away and made it no more than a few steps before Ethan spoke again.

"Like you've tried to stay away from Fox?"

Whitney stopped dead in her track and quickly turned back to him with a pained expression. Shock kept her from saying anything and she could only ask her questions through her eyes.

"Yeah, I know." Ethan answered her silent question. Shamed and embarrassed, Whitney looked to her feet and stumbled to her cover herself.

"No, it—not… Me and Fox are… we're friends."

Ethan eyed her coolly. "Everyone knows, Whit. You might be friends, but that's not how you feel. Is it?"

Whitney felt robbed of vocabulary. "It's different, Ethan," she tried in her own defense.

"No, it's not."

"I'm not sleeping with him behind his wife's back!" she spat in scorn.

"No," he concurred. "But you want to." They held a burning stare, accusation and rage between them. Whitney hated that he had infiltrated her heart's secrets and Ethan hated always having to defend his feelings for Theresa. "That's as bad as doing it."

She squinted her cold eyes at him. "How so? I've honored their marriage. You should try it."

"Right, right, Whit. Yes, you have honored their marriage. You tag along, pretending to be Theresa's shoulder and Fox's pal…" He laughed. "The entire time you hang around fantasizing about Fox and waiting for Theresa to mess up." She fumed inside. "At least I'm honest. I've told Theresa how I feel."

"And that makes it okay?" Whitney snapped.

"It's not right, I know that. But I'm just trying to show you that when you love someone as much as I love Theresa, it's wrong to stay away from them."

Whitney let his words process and knew that he was right; despite how hard she'd tried, a part of her couldn't stay away from the Crane House. When Ethan saw understanding in her eyes, he nodded silently and backed through the front doors and closed them once inside.

Ethan walked towards the living room and stood in darkness against the wall, watching the sleeping Theresa. She was cuddled up on the sofa with the silver glare from the TV on her face. He smiled to himself, the serenity of her face calming him. The oversized t-shirt made her look like a child. Her mouth hung open slightly, her chest rising and falling softly with each smooth breath. Watching her, all he suddenly wanted to do was steal her away. After taking a few minutes to burn the angelic image of her sleeping so peacefully into his memory, Ethan walked towards her and scooped her into his arms.

Upon moving, Theresa woke up startled. Looking around her quickly, she finally realized that she was in Ethan's arms. Smiling, she rested her head against his shoulder and he carried her upstairs to her bedroom. Theresa kept her eyes closed the entire trip to her room and deeply inhaled his scent. Ethan gently placed her down on the bed and she curled against her pillows. Just as Ethan stepped away from the bed, she reached for his hand.

"No," she pouted. "Stay with me."

Ethan looked down at the half-asleep woman in front of him and his heart squeezed for her. He gently touched her cheek with his fingers. "You need to sleep."

She pouted again. "Stay with me." He was about to protest again and she could feel it. "Please."

Ethan could never deny her pleading. Theresa could feel his attitude slip from resistant to acquiescent and smiled to herself. She scooted slightly and made room for him to lay next to her. Ethan automatically took her in his arms and wrapped his body around her.

"Whitney wants me to leave you alone," Ethan whispered into her hair.

"I know," Theresa responded, her eyes still closed. "Don't listen to her."

Ethan stared around the dark bedroom, the quiet and displacement clashing sharply with the comfort and perfection he felt laying next to her. "Maybe I should."

Drifting off, it took Theresa a minute to focus on his words and process them. "What?" she sat up to look at him.

Ethan's face fell immediately. "It's just… can we keep doing this, Theresa? I want to be with you more than anything, but can we just continue stealing moments like this?"

She stared at him, her eyes threatening to break their dams. She choked when a lump formed in her throat. "Don't do this to me again, Ethan, please."

"Theresa, I just… I don't know what to do here. You're not gonna leave Fox and it's not enough to be with you when you can sneak away." Ethan looked into her glassy eyes and wished they didn't look so sad. "I need you all to myself," he said as he traced a fallen tear off her face.

Theresa then cried silently, a realization that concluded what she didn't want to admit to herself. Inching closer to him, she took his face between her hands. Ethan saw her fast-falling tears and tried in vain to steel himself against the blow he knew was coming. Theresa's fingers went up and down on his cheeks, her fingertips grazing lightly on the stubble.

"I…," she breathed. She had to stop to compose herself and then looked back up to him. "Fox comes back tomorrow night. I'll tell him tomorrow night." She smiled through her tears.

At first, Ethan wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly and he stared at her blankly. "You're sure about this?"

She didn't hesitate as she nodded. "If I think about waking up without you for the rest of my life, I start to shake." Her words made him consider the thought and it grazed a hollow in his chest. "Ethan, I've been trying to live without you for too long. I can't do it anymore."

They held a long stare between them, both afraid that they were about to take such a definitive and dangerous step.

"I can't either," he confessed.

In truth, he always had the idea of Fox's return in the back of his head and he just didn't want to confront what would happen next for fear that it would destroy him.

Their lips found each other and their usual fire flowed through them. Ethan pulled her closer to him, his mouth already plundering hers and asking permission for more. Theresa held onto him, his arms secure around her. Ethan's hands started inching her shirt up her torso and her hands stopped him before her reached her ribs.

"Ethan, wait," she said, breaking the kiss.

His mind screamed in doubt. "What? What's wrong?"

She looked her eyes down, suddenly embarrassed. "Can we… can we just sleep?" she asked meekly. "I'm exhausted."

Ethan smiled, his doubt and fear quickly pushed away as if it had never taken place in his mind. "You know, that's what I was thinking."

In each other's arms, they slept through the night better than they had in years.

______

The next morning, Theresa reluctantly walked Ethan to the front door knowing that the next time she saw him, things would be dramatically different between them—hopefully.

"Call me… later," Ethan said softly as he opened the front door, both knowing what he meant when he said the last word; later would be no ordinary later. Later was going to be the beginning of something new, something all-consuming, something that they had been waiting their entire lives to see.

Theresa smiled up at him, her eyes glowing. "I will. I promise."

Ethan's thumb traced circles on her chin before he kissed her a few times. "You're sure you want to do this?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes." Her voice was like a breath of certainty. She was certain that she wanted to be with Ethan and she was now willing to do what it took to make sure that happened.

Even if it meant telling Fox that it was over.

Ethan kissed her again, both in gratitude and in assurance that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to.

"I love you," he said close to her mouth.

"With all of my heart," she responded, finishing the sentiment they shared between them.

Kissing a few more times, they clung to each other and finally Ethan left her side. Theresa watched him walk to his car and hoped that the next time she saw him, she'd be able to run into his arms and never let go.

That night, after a long day of mental preparation, Theresa finally heard the front door open. Fox's familiar footsteps echoed off the foyer walls and she waited for him in the kitchen—that she also had to clean up—with a half-eaten bowl of soggy cereal.

"Hello?" Fox called as he rounded the corner into the kitchen.

Theresa looked up to see him smiling. Right away, a blade began cutting into her heart when she remembered what she was going to do him. _But it had to be done_, she assured herself over and over again.

Before she could say anything, Fox ran to her and picked her up from the chair she was in. Theresa was breathless as he spun her in the air and held her close to him like a small child. She held onto him tightly, fearful of falling and also trying to get in a last tender moment with him… before she burned everything they'd ever had together.

"Oh, I missed you," he breathed heavily as he put her back on her feet in front of him. "I missed you so much, Theresa." Her heart broke as he said those words. She wished with everything she had that it wouldn't have to hurt him so much. But there was no other way. "I thought about you constantly. I couldn't wait to get back to you." And he pulled back to look into her eyes. "Are you okay?"

She looked up at him with eyes that gave her away to anyone, eyes that were sad and regretful. "I'm fine. Just tired…," she lied.

"I just had this feeling that there was something wrong and it was bothering me the entire time I was in Japan. I could barely concentrate during my meetings."

Theresa's guilt was like small, heavy stones against her back. She stared at her husband and could almost see a glow coming from his eyes. It hurt to know that she would be responsible for turning that light out. Suddenly she got an image of an arrow sticking out of her chest. She wouldn't want to pull it out, fearing the pain that it was sure to cause her. Still, leaving it in would only promote bacteria, infection, and the irrevocable damage done by an unhealed wound. For Fox's own good, she knew, she had to go through with it. But he was happy; so happy. And she was going to tear that away from him so that she could selfishly get what she wanted.

"I have something to tell you," she said softly.

"And I have something to tell you," he said excitedly, smiling. "Remember that deal with Jin X Imports?"

"The one they turned down?"

"Yeah, they said they wanted nothing to do with Alistair Crane's company," he frowned.

"What about the deal? Did they reconsider?"

Fox looked like a child that held a pent-up secret. "No. Mr. Tomikayo has noticed how much I changed Crane. He wanted to merge! Theresa! Crane is going global!"

His jaw was wide, his tongue hanging in joy and he held his arms out for congratulations. Theresa stared at him in his joyful moment and knew that she couldn't ruin it. She couldn't rip something away from him when he was so happy; she couldn't be that cruel. Finally forcing a smile past the guilt and disappointment, Theresa embraced him tightly and congratulated him. Again he spun her and his throat let out a sharp sound of laughter.

"Can you believe it! Me, Fox Crane! Finally, Theresa! Finally… Crane's going to be recognized as fully legitimate." He spoke more and more softly and the realization seemed greater and greater to him.

Theresa smiled at him, her pride not fully clouded by her guilt. "That's great," she said through a wide smile. "I'm so proud of you, Fox."

He kissed her lips in his glee and hugged her again. "Now, what did you want to tell me?"

Theresa was caught in a heavy stare then and she wasn't sure what to say. "Oh…," she stuttered. "Well, don't worry about it." And she looked down to her feet fearing that looking into his eyes would make her spill out everything she wanted to say. Fox followed her eyes down and had to lift her chin with his finger to face her again.

"What is it?" Suddenly Theresa cold feel the happiness and life she was sucking out of him.

_No_, she thought. _Not now._

"Theresa… you can tell me."

She smiled up at him. "It's just… I accidentally broke some of the glasses your mother bought us last night."

He stared at her as if he wasn't sure whether or not he should believe her. "The glasses?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, the ones she had made for us in Italy. Don't you remember?"

He stared at her again, curious. "Of course I remember… How did you break them?"

Theresa then got flashes of her and Ethan crashing against surfaces in the kitchen and pushing away from them; dropping dishes, plates, glasses, and pans to the floor with loud noises. She remembered his breath on her ear, his hips between hers, his arms holding her, his tongue in her mouth, his hair in her hands as he pleasured her, her screams as he thrust deep…

"Oh… I just… clumsy me, always dropping things."

Fox nodded hesitantly and then smiled. "Don't worry. I'll get you some new ones." And he kissed her forehead softly. "You sure that's it?"

Theresa had to force her eyes to not even begin to water for fear that they'd give her away. "Yeah," she nodded. "What else could it be?"

Fox stared into her eyes, searching for answers that his doubting heart had been screaming at him since Japan. Deciding it best to ignore them—again—he smiled at her. "Nothing. Let's celebrate?"

Theresa nodded. "Absolutely. But I need to make a phone call first. I'll be right back?"

Something rang out in Fox's mind but he pushed past it. "Okay. Don't be long."

Theresa smiled as she walked down the hallway that led out of the kitchen and Fox grabbed for a bottle of wine. He tried not to watch her, he tried not to listen for any voices, but she was probably too far away anyway. Instead, he focused on the bottle in his hands and did his best to gingerly pry the cork out of the bottle without making any noise. It made a light pop as the air inside the bottle was released. He went to a cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses when he realized that a few plates and several cups were missing.

_Strange_, he thought._ Did Theresa go on a rampage and throw all dishes to the floor? _Or did something else happen in the kitchen that he couldn't even think about?

Theresa slowly walked past the foyer and into her office, sometimes glancing over her shoulder, half expecting Fox to be right behind her. She had to tell herself numerous times that Fox wasn't going to spy on her if he had nothing to suspect. And she wasn't helping on that front with acting so suspiciously.

In the confines of her office, she debated on whether or not to close the door. If she closed it, she was afraid that she wouldn't be able to hear Fox if he approached. If she left it open, she was afraid that Fox would hear her conversation and she hated having to go back and forth between decisions in her brain. Finally, she decided to close the door and try to whisper just in case she had to listen for a knock.

Like a spy, she eyed her phone as if even dialing the numbers would signal Fox into what she was really doing. But what was she doing? She was making a phone call. A simple, innocent phone call. An innocent phone call that was to the man she'd recently made love to over and over and over and over again in her husband's bed.

And she knew that she was not innocent.

Cautiously, Theresa stared at her cell phone, the buttons mocking her distress. She knew that a part of her would fall away when she heard the heartbreak in Ethan's voice. But she was beginning to learn that her life was becoming everything she didn't want to do. Breathing deeply, Theresa was finally able to scroll through the phonebook on her cell phone and find Ethan's name. She stared at the number, contemplating if she really wanted to push the call button. Before she could think about it any further, she pushed the button and hesitantly put the phone to her ear. The phone rang twice when Ethan's smooth voice answered.

"Theresa," he breathed softly.

For a moment, she was frozen. "H-hi," she stumbled. He waited for her to say something and her heart pounded faster. "Ethan, I—"

"I know," he interrupted. "I know."

Stunned, Theresa wasn't sure what to say. "What? But I didn't—"

"It's okay, Theresa. Really." And she listened for the heartbreak she was sure to hear; but it wasn't there. He sounded just as calm and together as ever. "I'll wait for you, Theresa." Still Theresa could say nothing. "I've waited two years. For as long as it takes, I'll wait for you."

Theresa felt as if her stomach had been pulled out. She'd already begun mentally preparing herself for Ethan to give up for good when she explained that she wasn't able to tell Fox about them just yet.

Theresa still said nothing and then Ethan started to panic. "Theresa?"

"Yeah? I'm here," she responded quickly.

"I'm not giving up, Theresa. Not yet." She smiled, her heart fluttering in hope despite her predicament. Theresa closed her eyes and wondered just how she'd come to deserve two men that loved her as much as they did. "Promise me, Theresa. Promise me that we'll be together some day."

For some reason, Theresa smiled. Maybe it was the thought that the hope he had in them being together would not be wasted. "I promise," Theresa whispered, relieved. "I promise I'll tell him soon."

"And then you'll be _mine_."

Before she even had to think about the words, Theresa responded. "I always have been." The way Ethan said that last word sent a warm shiver up her spine as she realized that she never wanted to be anything more. "I love you," she said softly.

When Ethan reciprocated, Theresa finally ended the phone call and had to tell her nerves to calm down; she was still worked up over having to explain that she couldn't break her husband's heart despite what it meant for her and Ethan. Theresa pulled a small mirror from her desk drawer and checked her face that was probably flushed. She checked her eyelashes to make sure that even a little moisture didn't leave her eyes and mark her skin with blotches of mascara. Deciding that she looked fine, Theresa took a deep breath and pulled open the door of her office. With Ethan's voice resonating in her ears, she turned into the hallway to find Fox walking towards her with a dishrag tossing between his hands.

"Hey," he said as he noticed her surprise. "Was that work?"

Theresa had to keep her heart from exploding out of her chest. Theresa closed the door behind her quickly as if it held the evidence of who she really spoke to inside. "Um, no," she smiled gingerly as she looked down. "Whitney." She lied and she could feel a guilty demon laughing at her from within her brain.

Fox's face didn't seem to hold any suspicion as he stared at her much like he always did. "She okay?"

"Oh, um, yeah," Theresa stumbled over her thoughts and words. "She just wanted to know if you'd gotten back okay."

Fox nodded. "That's nice." They stood in the hallway together, both staring at each other; both looking for answers to different questions. "How about some wine?" Fox asked.

Theresa smiled as she took his hand and followed him to the kitchen.

______

The monthly report waited on Fox's desk when he walked into his office. Taking a quick skim over the numbers, he noticed that a few seemed to be off. Quickly he called in his assistant.

"Yes, Mr. Crane?" the short blonde woman asked.

"Yes, Sandra. What's going on with these numbers? Are they right? What's department 86?"

For a moment, Sandra looked shyer than usual. "That's fashion marketing, Mr. Crane. Mrs. Crane's department." Almost wincing, Sandra began preparing herself for Fox's argumentative rebuttal.

Instead, he sat complacent and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Sandra."

Sandra had to make sure she heard correctly before leaving the room. Fox stared at the report he held up in his hand and wondered what would have caused such a dramatic drop in profits. Theresa said that she had taken on some major projects recently. And that just didn't add up to the losses her department had suffered. Fox decided to take a walk down the street to the other Crane tower that Theresa oversaw.

______

With Britney Spears playing in his headphones, Chris danced in his chair and spun back and forth between file cabinets.

"Gimme, gimme, gimme more!" he sang along and he bobbed his head with the music.

"Chris?" a man's voice said.

But Chris didn't hear the caller and continued his musical filing. "Gimme more!"

"Chris?" the man said again.

As Chris rolled his office chair back to his desk to retrieve more papers, he stopped when he saw his guest.

A suited Fox stood tall with his hands behind his back, a stretched smile on his face. "Hi."

Chris quickly tore off his headset and stood from his chair. "Mr. Crane. Sorry. I didn't hear you."

Fox kept his composure and smirked. "I can see why." They stared at each other in embarrassment and amusement. "You sure you're able to hear the phone when it rings?"

Chris blushed and slowly wheeled his way back to his desk as he pattered his feet against the carpet. "Oh, um, I have it on vibrate," he said as he pointed to his hip where there was a small black box.

Fox nodded in his understanding and smiled as he remembered just how into the song Chris was. "Is she in?" Fox asked, gesturing to the closed office door.

It took a second for Chris to forget that he'd just given Fox his very own Britney Spears concert. "Oh, um, yeah, she is. Want me to buzz her for you?"

Already heading for the door, Fox put up a restricting hand. "No. It's all right. Thanks."

Chris could do nothing and silently hoped that Theresa was alone and had no evidence of anyone being close to her—namely Ethan.

Theresa was staring out the large windows behind her desk. Her eyes moved over the buildings, the far-off shore, the streets and cars, and the people meandering. The sky was clear and the streaks of sunlight grazed into the blue and caused orange and pink fades.

"Theresa," Fox called behind her.

She turned quickly to look at her door. "Hey," she responded as soon as she got past the shock of seeing him standing there. "What are you doing here?"

Fox closed the door behind him and took a seat on one of the couches she rarely used.

"Theresa, come here," he called coolly.

Suddenly, Theresa got the feeling that she was in high school again being summoned by her mother to be yelled at. Slowly leaving her desk side, she walked over to the middle of the room and sat next to Fox.

"What's going on?" While she asked the question, her mind worked with lightning speed as she was suddenly filled with fear. Fox had never looked so stern with her, least of all upset.

Quickly her mind started thinking like a detective and wondered if he had pulled her cell phone records to see that she had called Ethan yesterday after he got home. Maybe he used chemicals and special lights on the kitchen counters to find that she hadn't accidentally broken glass but that they were instead sacrificed in the heat of passion between her and Ethan only days before. What if he had hidden a video camera in the bedroom? Could he read her thoughts? Did he get Whitney to confess the secrets she held?

Theresa soon realized that she was driving herself mad and Fox hadn't even said anything yet. Before allowing herself to give everything away, she sat silently and waited for Fox to say whatever it was that he needed to talk to her about.

"I got last month's report this morning, Theresa," he began quietly. "And it's not looking good for your department, to be honest." Theresa focused on her words and mentally chastised herself for blowing it out of proportion. "Theresa, what's going on?"

She sat like a small child waiting for her parent to tell her what she'd done wrong. "What do you mean?"

"Theresa, you told me that you've been getting all these projects. You tell me that everything's going fine, that things are picking up fast. Just last month you holed yourself up in your office every single day. I just don't get why the numbers are collapsing like this."

Theresa remembered what Fox was talking about. After the first night with Ethan, after he had broken her heart—again—she had become withdrawn and turned away from Fox. She was ashamed of the betrayal and more than that, she wasn't sure how to go on living without Ethan. She couldn't breathe without him anymore. She started finding solace in her solitude in her office. Sometimes sitting there for hours, Theresa would stare at the window and watch the sky go from blue to orange to pink to black and sit in the darkness until she was tired enough to sleep. Only then would she crawl upstairs and get in bed next to Fox without a word. Whenever he'd asked her about it, she had used work as an excuse and said that she was incredibly busy.

"I just…," Theresa tried as she came out of the haze of her memories.

"Theresa, I pulled the files of your department before I left my office. I didn't see the work that had kept you so wrapped up last month. Besides that, I also found that two clients dropped out." He let that sink in and looked into her eyes as if asking her questions. "What happened?"

Theresa's guilt was heavy to hold on her shoulders. She said nothing for herself, knowing that there was nothing she could say. "I don't…," Theresa tried and failed to come up with something.

"Theresa, talk to me. Is there something wrong?"

And then she was swarmed in guilt. Right away her mind flashed with her dream and the pain she caused him in it. She wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him about Ethan and how when he'd torn her heart out and left her alone, she felt like dying and had no choice but to lock herself away in solitude to deal with it. She wanted to tell him that most days she came to work and stared out the window hoping that maybe she'd catch an early glimpse of the man she loved.

But she couldn't.

Despite what Theresa really wanted to tell Fox, she couldn't. There was no way that she could tell him of her love for his brother or how much being without him killed her. More than anything, she wanted to confess everything so that she wouldn't live with such anxiety all the time. Whenever he approached her, she felt as if it were the last time he'd ever look at her with any kind of compassion in his eyes or love in his heart. And she couldn't even imagine Fox without the qualities that had drawn her to him in the first place.

"No," she lied. "Nothing's wrong."

Fox sighed deeply and turned to her fully. "Theresa, you can trust me. I'm your husband. I can tell there's something bothering you and I'm here. I'll help you. You just need to tell me what's going on. Please."

Theresa considered that option. She thought about what would happen if she were to inform Fox of everything she'd done, the deep betrayal that she'd recently committed and wondered if he'd really want to know. Then she realized that she was being selfish. To throw that on him just to ease her conscious and get everything she wanted was wrong.

Fox stared at her as if looking deep into her soul for answers. For a second, he thought back to the night he asked Ethan if she was having an affair. He tried to look past her eyes, past all her shields to get into her heart. He wanted to hear her thoughts, he wanted to know how she felt, and he did his best to read her. Only, he was never able to. He always was stared back at with big brown eyes that never spoke to him.

Theresa did her best, put on her best smile and took his hand. "Fox, I promise, everything's fine. It's just been taking me longer to get through my projects. But it's fine."

Fox watched as she took his hand and looked at their intertwined fingers. Something hit him in the chest upon seeing their flesh together, almost like it wasn't supposed to be, almost like something was wrong in the very gesture. That was when it caught his attention.

A small golden chain dangled off of Theresa's wrist.

Fox turned Theresa's hand over and stared at the small sun and it smiled at him as if it knew something he didn't. He stared at the smile; it haunted him. He tried to move past the small smug grin, but couldn't seem to get it out of his head.

"That's pretty," he said. "Where'd you get it?"

Theresa followed his eyes to her wrist and looked at the small bracelet that Ethan had given her. For a moment, she remembered what it felt like to have Ethan's warm hands putting it on her… his warm body next to her.

"Oh," she stumbled. And then she tried to quickly come up with an excuse that wouldn't make him suspicious. She was angry at herself for not having thought about the bracelet and either coming up with an excuse for its origin, or deciding not to wear it at all. "It was a present."

Fox turned over the small sun and found himself growing jealous of such a small thing and he didn't understand why. "From who?" he asked as he turned up to her.

For a second, Theresa had to think of something quickly. She knew that Chris was right outside and she wouldn't have a chance to explain before Fox left and thus allowing her to be proven a liar. "Whitney," she lied again.

Fox stared at the small sun and imagined Whitney giving it to her. And he knew that something didn't fit. However pretty it was, however shiny the gold was, there was something too intimate about the charm that made Fox doubt her answer. "It's nice."

Theresa looked up at him and almost apologized as she saw how he stared at the sun. There was no way he could have possibly known its origin, but still… the way he eyed it as if it were a threat to him was dangerous and it was cutting into her soul to see him that way.

"Listen, Theresa," Fox said as he got up, "if there's anything that I can help you with, please let me know. Okay?" She nodded. "And please do your best to bring those numbers back up. With the new merger with Jin X, I can't afford to lose departments in the company." With that he took his leave and Theresa sat for several minutes afterward staring at her bracelet and wondering just why it had so obviously bothered him so much.

Finally deciding that Fox was beginning to formulate suspicions, Theresa went to her desk to begin work. Fox was angry with her, she knew that. With everything that had just started in her life, she hadn't had the time—let alone the energy—to keep up with her work. Trying to focus, Theresa pulled more papers towards her and got to reading a fashion house merger proposal. She was so concentrated that she didn't even hear the door open. As he closed the door behind him and with the clicks of the turning lock, Theresa looked up to him. With a daring smirk, Ethan began crossing the room towards her.

"Ethan?" She already knew why he was there and didn't need to ask. "Ethan, wait," she began. "I… I have a lot to do today. Fox has noticed that I haven't been working much lately and my company's suffering." Ethan heard her words but he wasn't listening. Theresa dropped her pen and stood from the chair. "I have to read this proposal, arrange a meeting with Valentino, architecture needs an approval, I have to go to Italy soon, Fox needs a report…"

She gingerly looked up to him, whether in apology or hesitation, she wasn't sure. Ethan walked around her desk and closed on the space between them. Theresa backed against her desk and he settled his hands on either side of her and bent low. Glancing to the side, he looked down and noticed the small golden chain around her wrist. Stretching his thumb up from the desk, he touched the bracelet against her skin. He smiled to himself and looked back up to her. Staring into her eyes, he let a deep exhale escape his nostrils. Theresa stared at him with questioning eyes, her expression confused and curious.

"Hi," Ethan finally greeted.

His voice was soft and deep and his expression still wore the same daring smirk. Theresa tried to back away even further, but with the desk already at her thighs, she couldn't move and Ethan was intoxicatingly close.

Within minutes, she was sitting on the edge of the desk with her legs opened around his waist and she moaned into the air as Ethan fucked her.

______

The buzzing of her phone's vibrations woke Theresa up at 3:24 in the morning. The room was still dark and her eyes had to adjust to the bright blue light of her phone. Finally focusing, she saw that Ethan was calling her. Immediately, she panicked. Still next to a sleeping Fox, she wasn't sure if it was a good idea to take a call from him so early in the morning while her husband was within earshot. Quickly sitting up, Theresa left the bed softly so as not to disturb Fox and walked quietly to the bathroom and closed the door.

"Hello?" her groggy voice answered.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he breathed into the phone. Theresa smiled despite her tiredness. "Come outside."

Suddenly Theresa didn't understand. "Wh-what? Outside?" she whispered.

"Yeah, outside. I'm by the gate. Hurry."

Confused, Theresa tried to focus on what he was saying. He was asking her to go outside, to the gate. What for? "But… the gate? What are you—?"

And then he hung up. Suddenly, Theresa's entire body started shaking in a cold frenzy. She looked out the bathroom door to a sleeping Fox. She wondered if he'd heard. What if he had woken up? There was only one thing she knew for sure: Ethan was outside and there was no way she was going back to sleep now.

Theresa quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and made her way through her dark house. When she reached the front door, she grasped the knob and debated whether or not she should open it. Sneaking out of her own house to see another man while her husband slept was a new level that Theresa hadn't reached yet. Pulling the door open would be a point she'd never be able to pull back from. She thought about Fox waking up to an empty bed. She realized that she wouldn't be able to hide anything much longer if he realized she was gone. But then she thought about Ethan just outside and realized that she couldn't stop herself from going to him. She needed to be with him, whatever the circumstances.

The cool twilight was accompanied by the soothing sounds of crickets calling to the temperature of the sunless day. Theresa quickly walked past the fountain in the middle of the cul-de-sac and to the iron gate at the entrance of the estate. She had to enter a code for the gates to open after hours. She hoped that the screeching wouldn't wake Fox, even though he was on the third floor, hundreds of feet away from where she was.

Still shaking with nerves, Theresa slipped through the gate and looked around for Ethan. She looked for his black Lexus, but saw nothing. The next thing she knew, she was being pulled backwards into the bushes surrounding the gates. Just as she was about to scream, her mouth was covered with a hand. She was spun to face her attacked and then a mouth was covering hers. Before she was able to think of anything else, she recognized the lips immediately. His breathing was familiar, his touch, his tongue. She kissed him back and clung to him as if she was afraid her legs would give out.

"I missed you," he sighed into her mouth.

Theresa smiled and she leaned into him again. But then the guilty demon that lingered when it came to Fox was pounding at her brain again. Despite kissing Ethan, she was still conscious of the fact that Fox was not too far from them, and even though he couldn't see them, she felt oddly more guilty than usual knowing that he was so close to her.

"Where's your car?" Theresa asked as she leaned in again.

Ethan's tongue traced down Theresa throat and then back up to her ear where his lips continued to suck. "Over there," he whispered.

Goosebumps formed on her skin, but this time it wasn't because she was nervous. As the tip of his tongue circled around her ear, she could feel her heartbeat quicken. The warm breath mixed with the wetness of his tongue sent her shuddering. She wasn't going to be able to contain herself for much longer.

They never made it to Ethan's car. Theresa had to use Ethan's neck to block the sounds of her throat. By the time the sun started creeping over the horizon, her body was rippled in pleasure. Her chest couldn't seem to catch a full breath.

"Ethan…," she tried to get him to turn to her. But he didn't; kissing her neck had taken precedence. "Ethan…,"

"Hmm?"

"The sun's coming up," she sighed. She laughed as his breath ticked her.

Ethan finally pulled away from her. He smiled when he looked at her. "You have leaves in your hair."

After another few minutes of painful protests, Theresa was finally able to leave him. Again, she had to slide between the iron gates and run down the cul-de-sac. Ethan watched her from the gates and found himself wanting to run after her. But he knew he couldn't.

Theresa was lucky that she was able to slip back into the house without waking Fox. She slowly walked up the stairs and then finally to her bedroom. Fox was still sleeping on his side of the bed. Too worked up to sleep by that point, Theresa went to take a shower.

For the next week, it became habit for Ethan to surprise Theresa in her office without calling or waiting to be buzzed in. Whether she was on a conference call, sketching, reading reports, or going over sales numbers, Ethan made sure that she paid attention to him. He was even known to grab the phone that she was talking on and spoke as her assistant explaining that Theresa would call back later. And then he would descend on her like a predator against his prey.

Chris made sure that his headphones were pressed deep into his ears when he saw Ethan walk towards Theresa's door and tried his best to man the phone calls that Theresa would be missing over the next hour or so.

Theresa once even left her bed mid-early-morning while it was still dark and quietly padded around dressing while Fox slept. Slipping out of her house made her feel like a teenager again and Ethan's cavalier desire didn't make her actual age any more apparent. Ethan drove to a nearby break in the Harmony Woods and then turned to her. Somehow, without getting out of the car, they both ended up on the leather of the backseat, their skin getting stuck in the heat. When both were exhausted and on the verge of falling asleep sated, Ethan drove her back home so she could take a shower and get ready for work… where he'd meet her later in the day… on her desk, or against the floor-to-ceiling window, or on the Oriental rug she had in front of the elaborate fireplace.

But it was becoming too habitual for them both. Ethan was getting tired of having to leave her after every time they made love. He wanted her next to him until he was ready to make it through the rest of the day without her; not because he had no choice. He wanted her to be his and he told her that every time they got a moment alone. Ethan was becoming more pressing on Theresa when it came to their relationship and its entanglement with her husband.

Finally deciding that her sanity rested on her telling Fox the truth that was locked in her heart, Theresa made up her mind and resolved to tell Fox as soon as she could. The day was a long one for her at work and she couldn't help but stare out the window all day, almost as if looking for a divine sign to tell her what to do. She couldn't stay in her office for that long so she left before Ethan could make his usual stop by to see her. Theresa went home and sat, staring out the window in the parlor, waiting for Fox to get home. She waited for hours and sat the entire time thinking of what she would say to him, what he would say, what he would do… and it hurt her beyond belief that she was going to watch the only man that could never hurt her cry.

Fox's car pulled up to the front of the house and suddenly Theresa's heart sped as if she'd just been given a shot of speed. Right away, her breathing quickened and she felt as if she'd just been out running. She couldn't sit, her nerves deciding her actions, and she got up from her seat. As she watched him walk up the few steps leading to the front door, she panicked. She made a move to sit back down, then she rethought that and stood up straight. Then she realized she couldn't tell him at the door so she quickly ran through the foyer and as fast as she could up the stairs.

Her heart was racing, her breath was short, and her hands were starting to get ice cold and shaky. She waited at the top of the stairs on the second floor. The marble beneath her feet made it easier for her pacing to be missed and cause her to slip. She fidgeted with her hands and continued to tell herself that she needed to calm down—at least for Fox's sake. Suddenly she heard the door creak open and shut with the sharp noise that reverberated all the way upstairs.

"Hello?" Fox called out through the foyer.

Hearing Fox's voice made Theresa's throat tighten. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her blood was racing through her body. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't speak. Her mind was on fire. She had to scream. Her world was going black. Her eyes were rolling back and her ears were blurring sound around her.

"Hello?" Fox called out again.

And the only response he got was the thud at the top of the stairs as Theresa fainted.

______

Theresa opened her eyes to a white room with a blue curtain to her right. She slowly blinked over and over and let her eyes adjust and come into focus. She noticed the metal rails on both her sides, the cheap cotton blankets over her, the white plastic bracelet around her wrist, and the needle taped to the top of her hand. She slowly lifted her hand closer to her face and noticed the small bruise under the tape where the needle had been entered. She picked at the tape and winced as she accidentally moved the needle under her skin.

"I don' t think the doctors would want you to do that," a voice across the room said.

Theresa looked up to find Fox sitting in a chair looking rather casual. "Fox…? What…?" And she looked around again. She was lying in a hospital room with an IV feeding into her veins.

"You fainted," he answered her. Hunched over in his chair, he rested his elbows on his thighs and rubbed his palms together meticulously watching them as if he were about to produce something in them. He took in a deep breath and let it out.

Theresa could hear the tension in his breath and she tried and tried to make herself remember what had happened. She remembered waiting for him to get home, she remembered running upstairs, she remembered feeling as if her heart was going to explode out of her body, and then… blackness. She woke up and she was in the hospital and she had apparently fainted. Suddenly, she wondered if, in her unconscious limbo, she had told him about Ethan. But there was no way of knowing without asking him or waiting for him to mention it.

Fox continued watching his hands and Theresa knew that there was some kind of tension that he was trying to deal with. While graced with the poise of a Crane and the tactics to handle intense situations well, she had developed the skill to read his every emotion and right then she could tell that there was something he was struggling with deeply.

"Fox?" she asked softly. Still, he wouldn't look up at her and she knew that he was debating whether or not to say what he so-obviously wanted to.

"You're pregnant, Theresa," he said with a deep exhale. And yet, even after he said the words, he couldn't look up. His hands continued their churning and massaging.

Theresa froze. She stared at him and let the words replay in her mind over and over until they blocked out the beeping of the machines around her. She didn't breathe, she didn't move; all she could do was imagine that something had gone terribly wrong.

Fox looked up at her finally and studied her reaction. She stared down at the cotton blankets over her legs and surveyed them as if they had suddenly become interesting. Her heart had sped up but everything else had slowed down. She tried to process the words, but nothing was making sense.

"Theresa? Did you hear what I said?" Fox asked. Still in shock, she nodded. "The question is," he said, as he continued playing with his hands, "whose is it?"

Even more than before, her world froze. She couldn't move. All of her limbs were glued down and she felt like something was being taken out of her. Fox's last question rang in her head over and over again. It was as if her brain understood the words individually but was having trouble processing them together.

_Whose is it? Whose is it? Whose is it?_

She wondered what he was talking about. The plastic band on her wrist? The guilt building in the pit of her stomach? Then she realized her mistake.

_He knows!_

"I …But? What do you mean?" And she wasn't even sure why she was going along with her charade.

Fox was close to losing his patience and he attempted to reel in his temper by rubbing his hands some more. "I mean," he said harshly, "is the baby mine?" Letting the words hang in the air, Fox looked back up to her. "Or Ethan's?"

_He really does know! _

"But, Fox, what--?"

"Do you think I'm a fool, Theresa!" And then Fox was standing as he yelled. "Am I stupid!"

Theresa flinched each time he yelled and before she knew it, she was crying. "No, Fox, I didn't mean—"

"Did you really think I didn't know! I knew from the very first day!"

Theresa wasn't sure what to do or what to say. She stared back into Fox's heartbroken face and silently asked for forgiveness for hurting him. But she knew that no matter how much she asked for it, nothing could excuse what she'd done to him. "Fox…," she tried over the lump in her throat, "I'm so… so sorry."

Fox said nothing, his anger getting the best of him. "You didn't answer my question."

"Fox, please," she cried.

"Is it mine? Is it Ethan's?"

"I—"

"Whose is it, Theresa!"

"I don't know!"

Theresa hadn't had enough time to process the fact that she was pregnant and that her husband had known of her secret affair all along, let alone thinking about who the father could be. She wasn't even sure how long she had been pregnant.

"You don't know," he echoed. With that, he headed for the door. Theresa watched him with tears rolling freely down her face. Then he turned around and faced her. "I loved you…," he whispered painfully. And then he left and Theresa was alone.

She seemed paused as she froze. She felt as if she couldn't move. For a second, she felt as if everything had simply been a bad dream. What if her anxiety over telling Fox the truth was causing her to go mad? But as she looked around, she realized that it had to be real. Fox knew. And he hated her. She had prepared herself for everything; she knew Fox would be upset, she knew that it would hurt, she knew she would cry. But she wasn't prepared for him to hate her. She loved him. While nothing could compare to her love for Ethan, she still loved Fox and hated hurting him. And it hurt even more to know that he hated her for what she did. Her world was slowly falling apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

______

"Oh, God, Theresa!" Ethan cried as he ran to her bedside. He kneeled next to her and took her hand. "I called your office and Chris told me that you were rushed here. What happened?" He realized then that she was crying.

Theresa turned to him, her face tearstained. "Ethan…," she sobbed. Ethan's face immediately filled with concern and he tried to soothe her by smoothing her hair away from her face. "He knows," Theresa whispered.

Ethan pushed fallen strands of her hair behind her ear. "Who knows what?" Ethan asked softly.

Theresa had to swallow hard again. "Fox," she answered. "Fox knows, Ethan."

Ethan's hand stopped its movement against her head and he stared at her. "Knows? You told him about us? Is that why you're here, Theresa?" And then he was suddenly furious. "Did he hit you? I swear to god… I'll kill him! Where is he?" He was on his feet ready to pounce. "Where's Fox? I'll kill him for doing this to you!"

"Ethan, no! Wait." Ethan looked back down to her as if saying that nothing she could say would change his mind; he was already hungry for blood. "He didn't hurt me, Ethan!" she said weakly. "He never would."

Ethan knelt back down and stared at Theresa's fidgeting fingers. "Then what happened?"

But Theresa wasn't able to answer. Someone else took the opportunity before she could.

"She's pregnant," Fox's voice said from the doorway.

Ethan stood up and spun quickly at the sound of the voice. Neither Ethan nor Theresa realized that their hands were intertwined. But Fox did. And he stared at their grasped fingers with burning hatred.

"What?" Ethan asked in shock.

Fox took a drink of the weak coffee in the Styrofoam cup he held in his hand. "She's pregnant," he said again softly.

Ethan quickly turned to look down at Theresa and all she could do was stare up at him with the tears that hadn't stopped since Fox told her the news. His eyes pushed her with questions—the same ones Fox had asked. But they were also the same questions she couldn't answer and it hurt her to see the same pain in Ethan's eyes. Ethan turned back to Fox with the shock still on his face.

"It's true," Fox added. Ethan looked as if he didn't believe Fox's words.

"Fox, please…," Theresa whispered before she could stop herself.

When Fox looked at her then, she felt her heart break for him. With a simple statement, she told her husband that another man's feelings were more important to her. Fox stopped, pained. Suddenly Ethan had become the victim in Theresa's eyes and Fox had been cast as the villain despite the fact that he was the one lied to and betrayed by his own wife and brother.

Fox felt like the hair had been stolen from his lungs; looking at them was making it hard for him to breathe properly. He was sure that he was soon to hyperventilate. Tears were beginning to build as he watched them together. Their hands fit like molded counter pieces. And then he found himself wondering if their bodies fit together just as well as their hands did.

_Ethan touched her. She touched him._

Fox imagined Theresa moaning Ethan's name. He could see her pulling scratches across the bare skin of his back. Ethan touched her. Over. And over. And over. And more than that. Fox knew that they had made love and exchanged something that was supposed to be reserved for her only her husband. He was furious. Their hands had become something demonic to him. Without another word, and with a hateful stare at Ethan and Theresa, Fox left the room.

Ethan stood frozen, staring after Fox when he left. Theresa looked up at Ethan, her tear-filled eyes searching and waiting for him to look at her. Still, he stood staring at the empty doorway. She pulled again and he finally turned down to her. His face only showed a fraction of the heartbreak he was feeling and it cut her apart to see what her demise caused him.

"Ethan?" she tried saying without crying. The lump was becoming more solid in her throat.

Before she could say anything else, Ethan kissed her forehead and pulled her closer. "I need to get some air." And just like Fox, he left. Theresa watched him leave and suddenly felt like she had never been more alone.


	11. Jagged Edges

_**Chapter 10 : **_**Jagged Edges **

The auburn liquid burned his throat as he took a deep swallow. He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of the brandy in his glass. As he took in the fine aroma, he imagined Ethan drinking the brandy he had sent him. He imagined the same smell in his mouth. And then Fox wondered if Theresa had tasted the brandy off of his tongue.

And he took another drink.

His glass was empty before he knew it and he had to pour himself his fourth glass. As he stood to walk the few feet to the standing bar, Fox wavered and landed right back on the couch.

"Fox?" a voice in the doorway said.

The barely conscious Fox looked up at the woman standing there and tried to pretend that he still had his bearings. "Oh," he waved, "hey, Whit."

Trying again, Fox stood and this time was able to maintain his balance. He walked over to the bar and his toe bumped into it, causing all the glasses to move and almost tumble to the floor. His hand waved as he reached out for the neck of the glass bottle, but his vision had become blurry and it was easy to miss. His hand grasped at air and he had to try again. Finally finding the bottle, he caused the glasses to clank against it before he was able to lift it. He poured himself another glass full and took his seat.

She watched him take a drink and by how well she knew him, she could tell that he was at least on his fourth glass. "Fox, maybe you should take it easy for a little while, huh?"

Fox took another swig of the liquor that was quickly making his mouth numb. "Ah," he said in appreciation. "No, I don't think so." And she watched him take another drink and winced for him. "This makes everything better," he said, looking into the deep amber. Whitney slowly sat next to him on the couch and put a gentle hand to his back in comfort. "Oh, and," he said as he lifted his wrist in a toast, "Theresa's pregnant."

Whitney's eyes got softer and her heart broke for him. "Yeah," she nodded. "She called me from the hospital."

And then Fox downed the rest of the glass. "Yep, isn't it something? My wife's pregnant." He paused, staring around the room. "The kicker is I don't know if I'm going to be a daddy." And then he laughed, his throat cracking in pain.

"Fox…," Whitney tried to comfort him.

He laughed again. "It's alright. Don't pass out the cigars just yet."

Whitney's heart continued to break for him. She hated seeing him in so much pain. And what hurt her even more was the fact that she knew of Theresa's betrayal long before Fox had—at least officially. She should have told him. Maybe she would have saved him the humiliation and pain that he was going through now.

"You know," Fox began as he wiped his eyes of the tears that were beginning to fall without his permission. "I should have killed him when I had the chance."

Whitney's expression grew concerned. "Who?"

"Who else?" Fox asked sarcastically. "Boy wonder. Ethan." His mouth turned up in a scowl as if the name made him physically sick. "He's been taking what's mine since we were kids, Whitney! I'm not letting him take Theresa from me!"

This time, he didn't push his tears away. Tears of anger fell down his face, his brow and mouth clenched in a building fury. She had never seen him more broken. Fox had always been the one to hold composure no matter how embarrassed or angry he found himself.

Fox was a Crane. And Cranes didn't cry.

But he was crying. He was crying and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. The damage had been done and Whitney wasn't sure if it would ever be able to be repaired.

"No!" Fox screamed at himself. "No!"

He got up and found his way to the bar again. Struggling against the alcohol, it took him a while to find his balance. The glass clanked harder this time as he poured himself another glass of brandy. He finished the glass in one turn of his wrist before he threw it to the floor, smashing the glass.

"I don't hate him," he said, still loudly. He turned to Whitney, his eyes growing in discovery. "I hate her." He stared down at the floor, the perfectly cut wooden oak that he'd had imported from California forests. "I hate her. I hate her. I hate _her_!" Then the tears fell rapidly; angry tears that contorted his face in fury. "I hate her, Whit! How could she do this to me! How!"

Whitney watched him and knew that it was his breaking point, the cusp of his unraveling. She wasn't sure what to say. She wasn't sure there was anything for her to say.

"I _loved_ her, Whitney!" He bit his knuckle before taking his seat again.

Whitney stared at him, his eyes glassy and red. His Adam's apple jerked as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. She wanted to take his pain away. She wanted to help him heal.

"I know…," Whitney said softly.

He had to turn away from her; his sudden anguish was too great to be shielded anymore. His equilibrium was shaken, and not just by alcohol. Everything around him was getting harder and harder to focus on. There was one thing, however, that he could not erase from the forefront of his mind: Theresa.

Whitney's hand went to his cheek, her gentleness causing another tear to fall from his eye. He turned to her fully. He wasn't able to hide his pain from her anymore. He stared at her with every question, every anguish, he had in him. He cried as if he'd never been told that the blood that ran through his veins was too good for that when he was child.

Fox's neck was beginning to give out on him and his head wavered forwards before he was able to pull it back. "I loved her," he said again. "I loved her."

"It's okay, Fox. It's okay." Her eyes locked on his and let him know that he was safe and secure. "Shhh…." Her hand was still against his cheek and she wanted to suddenly tell him everything that was in her heart. But she wasn't sure she could; Fox was hurting and he was vulnerable.

"But—I—don't—how—could—she—I…," he sobbed. "No! I loved her. I loved her! With all of my heart! She was my sun! She was my moon! He used her! He toyed with her! For years! And I gave her my heart!" He paused, the events swirling in his cloudy mind. "And she threw it back at me! Just… like it didn't even matter!"

He was angry again, his temper flaring. His fists were clenching and his teeth were bared like an animal ready to attack. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he was getting ready to seek his revenge on those that broke him.

"Theresa! I loved her, Whit! So much! So much it hurts! And she chose Ethan! She chose him! He takes _everything_ from me! Everything!" He turned to her, his face closer to hers. "No more," he whispered.

And before Whitney realized it, he was kissing her.

"No more…," he whispered as he kissed her again. "No more."

Whitney froze, her lips moving against her will. She wasn't sure what was going on. All she knew was that Fox's lips were against hers. She could taste the sour smell of the brandy on Fox's tongue. With every firm declaration from Fox, he met her with a kiss. She kissed back without thinking about it. Soon, he was against her, lowering her to the plush couch.

Fox moved to her neck, his breath intoxicating and dripping with alcohol. Whitney let him kiss her. She let his mouth wander down her jaw line to her throat. She let his tongue slither out and lick up to her chin. She let his lips suck against her jugular. And then she let his hand gather a breast.

Whitney's throat let out a deep sigh as she felt him palming at her body. She had wanted him for so long. She had craved the moment that he was giving her. She had dreamed of him coming to her, asking her for her permission. She fantasized about him taking her in his arms and making love to her.

But this was real.

Fox was above her, his lips were against her skin, his fingertips undoing the buttons on her shirt, his legs slowly begging to spread hers. Whitney's skin was beginning to flush in heat. Goosebumps rose against her arms as his finger trailed down from her shoulder to her wrist. With his free arm, he slid under her body and pulled her close to him. She arched her back, forcing herself closer; her body needing to feel him, and her throat started to release shaky breaths.

"Fox…," she breathed into the air.

Fox wasn't listening. He worked at removing the shirt on the woman beneath him. The last two were not cooperating with him and he simply pulled, sending the remaining buttons flying into the air. Her body was exposed to him, his desire flooding his senses. Fox pulled the cup of her bra down and revealed a hardened nipple. Before bothering to look at the color, Fox took it to his mouth. He sucked, bit, pulled, and twisted with his lips as his tongue swirled around—just how she liked it.

Soon hands were on the sides of his head, goading him on in his action. Fox was ravenous, his hunger driving him mad. While he sucked to the point of pain against her breast, his other hand cupped her behind and slid to the front of her jeans. His lacking coordination made it difficult for him to unbutton her jeans fluidly and ended up having to tear himself from her chest and use both hands to pull her pants off. Just as the skin of her legs was exposed, he forced them open and around his waist.

Whitney watched as he moved in such haste, as if he were trying to distract himself from something. But, it was a very distant part of her that paid attention to that factor. All she knew in that moment was that Fox wanted her and she was going to give him what he wanted.

With her legs wrapped around him, Fox unbuckled his belt and freed himself through his zipper. Whitney reached for him, her hand trying desperately to feel him. But he didn't let her. Instead, he hooked his finger in her panties and pushed them aside. The next thing either of them knew, he was inside of her.

Whitney gasped as he entered her. She hadn't expected him so quickly, or so hard. Her dreams and her fantasies had been so much softer, so much more loving. But this was different. This was real.

"Oh god…," he sighed.

Fox wrapped his arms under her legs and grabbed her waist in both hands, bringing her body closer to his. He pushed into her without thinking. He tried his best to focus and instead thrust in again. He thought he heard a cry of pain, but he didn't pay attention.

"Oh… oh…," he breathed. "Oh god…. Theresa…."

And just as Whitney's day dream had been tainted, it got even more painful. He wasn't just making love to Theresa. Worse. He was hurting her.

Whitney then understood that everything that she wanted, everything she thought she was getting, was ripped from her in a single second. The feeling of Fox's lips against hers, his hands against her body, him inside of her, were all a blurred delusion. He didn't even see her.

"Fox!" she cried as he hurt her again. It felt like she was being ripped. The pain was searing as if she were being scraped with sandpaper on an open wound. She tried not to cry, but her pride was failing her.

But it didn't stop him. Instead, he went faster and harder. Whitney started to beg in pain, pleading with him to realize what he was doing. But his brain was too clouded to understand. Next, he fell against her, his weight heavy on her body. Whitney froze, her tears falling silently.

Fox cried against her chest, his tears wetting her half-removed bra. The two cried together—both for separate reasons—and then Fox fell asleep.

______

"Ma'am," a soft voice rang in Theresa's ear. "Ma'am?" Theresa turned to the elderly blond nurse staring at her. "Ma'am? Are you all right?"

Maybe it was that Theresa hadn't responded to the three individual attempts that Nancy had tried to get her attention that made her question. Or maybe it was the dried tears fallen from Theresa's swollen, red eyes.

"I'm fine," Theresa lied.

Nancy's face softened. "Don't worry, you'll do fine." She grabbed Theresa's hand and squeezed gently.

"Sorry?"

"It's natural to feel a little apprehensive about having a baby. Young mothers are always afraid that they won't be able to handle it. But don't worry. You'll do fine." And she smiled so sincerely that Theresa couldn't let her know why she was really crying. "I just wanted to come in and see if you needed anything before the doctor signs your discharge papers…"

Theresa smiled back weakly as she thought of leaving the hospital alone. She knew she deserved nothing better, but it still hurt. A tear threatened again, but Theresa forced herself to contain it.

"No, thank you."

Nancy smiled again and touched Theresa's shoulder before she turned to walk out.

"Wait," Theresa said suddenly. "Actually, there is something that I need." Nancy turned back to Theresa attentively. "Can you tell me how old the baby is?"

Nancy looked at Theresa with the same gentleness. "Sure, I'll schedule an appointment for you with your OB/GYN."

Just as she was about to walk out, Theresa stopped her more urgently. "No! I need… I need to know now."

To anyone else, the exact timing in the early stages of pregnancy might have been discernable and all right to leave unanswered for another week. But Theresa didn't have that luxury; she needed to know when the baby was conceived if her sanity was to survive.

______

The black pools of mascara had smudged under Whitney's eyes in jagged half-circles. She sat in the front room, consumed in shock. Her clothes were still half removed from her body, hanging in mangles that resembled her thoughts. Staring out the window, she looked for something that wasn't coming in the distance. Something was laughing at her on a different plane somewhere in the universe. And she couldn't even summon the energy to defy it.

A bird flew close to the window and landed on the sill. The small brown bird stared into the window at Whitney. It didn't make a sound or flap its wings. Then just as quickly as it had handed, it flew away.

The sound of a throat clearing caught Whitney's wavering attention. While she recognized the sound as coming from Fox, Whitney didn't turn. Fox stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away as if he'd burned her. Fox cursed himself when she moved away from his touch.

_It was real. _

"Oh god, Whit. I'm so sorry."

His mind was foggy, slivers of memories seeming like fabrications of his imagination in the wake of a dream. He woke up on the couch of his study; face down against the fine pillows. His head ached, his stomach churned and when he sat up, he realized that the zipper of his pants was undone. He questioned himself and knew that he had drunk too much and had probably passed out. But why were his pants undone?

Then his mind swam with images of Whitney coming into his study. She had sat next to him, her hand on his back in comfort. And her face kept morphing into Theresa's. And all he could remember thinking was that Theresa had given herself to another and he was going take that back—by force if necessary. But now as he stared at Whitney, he knew what he had done and he wanted to rip his lungs out.

He knew what he'd done to her. He knew that he'd hurt her and he hated himself more than he ever imagined possible. He stared at her and knew that he'd done what her mangled appearance reflected. Her shirt was stretched and fell lower on her shoulder than it should have and a few buttons were missing from the bottom. The black lines leading down from her eyes told him that not only had she been crying, but he was the one to make her cry.

Whitney was his best friend and he could think of nothing to undo what had been done. He'd treated her like his own personal punching bag. She had done nothing but try to make him feel better, take away the pain. And he abused her. And what was worse, he knew that it had meant something to her.

And he destroyed it.

Fox crouched in front of her and stared into her eyes. But they were blank. She stared out the window, her eyes empty of anything. "Whit?" he tried to get her attention. But she continued to stare at something that wasn't really there. "Whitney? Look at me." Her eyes remained glassy and far off into the distance where she could see only what she was thinking.

"Theresa's pregnant," she whispered.

Fox swallowed hard, his throat constricting and his head starting to pound even harder than it was. "I know," he said as he nodded.

"Theresa's pregnant," she whispered again.

It was as if her mind was gone. Whitney was gone. She had been taken, her body nothing but an empty shell of what she used to be. And it was all Fox's fault. He destroyed her in a simple action that he could have avoided if he had only listened to her when she suggested that he'd had enough.

"Whitney, please. Look at me. Whitney, it's Fox. Look at me."

Whitney finally turned her eyes down to him, her pupils constricting to focus on him. She stared at him just as blankly as she was staring out the window. As her eyes locked on his, tears started forming. She was scared of him.

"Whitney…," he whispered. "I am so sorry."

She stared at him, waiting for him to somehow prove his words true. But he didn't know how to make it any truer than what he felt; he meant it with all of his heart.

Her mind flashed with memories of what had happened. She remembered the elation of feeling Fox's lips against hers. His hands against her body made her want to cry in happiness. But then he turned. From loving and soft and passionate, he became cold and hard. She had only dreamed of being with Fox, making love to him. But it wasn't what she'd imagined. She tried to ignore the pain, but it was too great to push away. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and soon her throat was vocalizing her pain. Still, Fox refused to stop. Holding on to his shoulders, she cried for him to stop, to slow down. Instead he continued until he collapsed on top of her.

Whitney laid there, trying to hold in her tears, but it was in vain. Fox soon fell asleep and Whitney was able to escape. Her mind was a blank as she went down to the first level of the large estate. As she reached the front door, she broke down as she began focusing on what had just happened. Then she found herself sitting in the front room staring into Fox's worried face.

"Fox…," she whispered.

His eyes locked on hers and really mirrored the pain he saw. Suddenly afraid and embarrassed, she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding from him. She pulled her sleeves up and quickly buttoned her shirt. Fox watched her, his eyes squinting in pain as he knew that what he'd done was making her want to flee from him.

"Whitney, please," he tried. But still she made to get up. He stood in front of her and she sat back down, afraid of what he might do to her next. "God, I—please, I'm sorry."

Whitney stared at the floor, her eyes looking down, away from his face. She wasn't sure what to say to him, or what she was supposed to be thinking after something like that. The memories were crowding her mind so that she was unable to think of much else. She knew she wanted to cry again, but her eyes were dry; no more tears could be cried.

Fox stared at her, unsure of what to do. Without really thinking about it, he bent down and scooped her into his arms. He needed to show her that his tenderness was still there. He needed to prove that he was still the same man. He was her best friend, and she was his, despite what had transpired in the blurs of alcohol and pain. He wanted to erase everything he'd done. And the only way he knew how to do it was so show her that he wasn't a monster, and that he would never intentionally hurt her.

At first, feeling Fox's hands on her, she flinched. She immediately wanted to be out of his arms, afraid of what was going to happen next. But she knew better than to fight him; she had learned from experience that it was more painful that way. Instead, she stayed limp in his arms, her hands firmly on his shoulder to make sure she didn't fall.

Fox walked slowly with Whitney in his arms, and she felt like his child. The idea of ever hurting her hurt him more than he would have thought possible. But he knew that he needed to prove his true nature to her, no matter what.

Climbing the stairs was long for Fox, as he tried to maneuver without bumping Whitney into the walls or railing. Finally making it up to his bedroom, he gently laid her on the bed. As she was set down, Whitney was overcome with fear. She wasn't sure what he was going to do next, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to find out. She looked around the room to find that she was in Theresa's bedroom and wondered what he could possibly want with her in there. Frightened, she moved away from him as his set her down.

Fox saw that she crouched away from him and wished that she wasn't so afraid. But he knew that it was his fault that she feared him so. His eyes softened in remorse as he looked at the pain on her face. He was her predator and he wondered if she would ever be able to see him as a friend again. But he knew that he didn't deserve it.

Whitney backed up like a child backing away from a belt. Fox moved around the bed to the other side and sat down, facing her. She stared at him, afraid. She wasn't sure what he was going to do to her next. And she knew that she didn't have the strength—emotionally or physically—to fight him off. Fox pulled the tie loose around his neck and threw off his jacket. Whitney watched him, her eyes growing in dread. Fox drew closer to her and Whitney froze. If he was going to take her again, she wanted it to be as painless as possible.

But Fox was a better man than that.

He moved close to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Immediately, she twitched and tried to pull away from him. Even though she had told herself that she wouldn't put up a fight so that it would be over soon and without pain, it was her instinct to protect herself.

Fox swallowed hard at her hesitation. He had to hold her firmly in his arms as she fought. He moved closer to her and pulled her to his body.

"Whitney, Whitney, wait, wait," he tried to console her. "It's okay. It's okay. Shhh…. Shhhh…." Still she flailed in his arms, more aggression starting to fight him off. "Whitney!" he said harshly as he pulled both her arms around her body and held them against her back. He moved his lips close to her ear and tried to sound as sincere as he possibly could. "I'm not going to hurt you." He waited to see if she would respond. "I promise." Her body calmed slightly and he took it mean that she believed him.

Fox then pulled both their bodies down against the mattress and Whitney hesitantly followed down on the bed. Whitney's eyes leaked a tear as she felt Fox's strong arms give and wrap around her. Something suddenly felt different as she was in his arms. She knew that he was just as he used to be; gentle and caring. Fox was once again the man she loved, the man she dreamed of, her best friend. As she focused on Fox and how much she cared for him, and then the man that had treated her like his property in the library, she began sobbing.

She sobbed and sobbed into the pillows with Fox's arms around her. He tightened his hold on her, silently telling her that she was safe with him now.

"I'm so sorry, Whitney," he whispered into her ear. And he was sure that she began crying harder.

What Whitney was crying about, however, she wasn't entirely sure. She knew that the moment in the library wasn't Fox. Yet, it was hard to pass. She had wanted that moment more than anything for years. And when it was finally granted to her, it was a stolen moment acted out of revenge and spite. And it wasn't even in the reality that she'd always wanted.

But, now, as he held her tight in his arms and gave her what she'd craved for so long, she wondered if destiny was playing a trick on her or if something real was really happening between them. The possibility that it could be ripped away from her as quickly as it had been given was a painful thought. And so she cried.

Suddenly, out of no where, in the pit of his stomach, Fox felt something cutting into his abdomen. It was like a tiny punch sawing into the muscular wall protecting his intestines. What it was, though, he didn't know. He pulled Whitney closer, and the stabbing grew stronger. The room went quiet, the air grew softer, and a clear fog enveloped his thoughts.

Whitney's voice broke, her tears dissipating to give way to her voice. Her throat quivered as she spoke, afraid of the words she was about to say as well as needing to have them said.

"I… I—I love you, Fox."

The stabbing in Fox's belly quelled. It was something that he couldn't ignore. But it was also something that he didn't understand. Not knowing what to say in response, not really sure of his own feelings, he pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I'll never hurt you again."

______

The gel was cold as it was squirted onto her stomach. As soon as the white bulb was put to her belly, the room was filled the wahm-wahm-wahm-wahm sound of the baby's heartbeat.

"So that right there," the doctor's gloved hand pointed to the black-and-white monitor, "that's the heart."

Theresa noticed the blinking dot and right away felt like everything had suddenly become more real for her to actually see the life growing inside of her. She stared at the small white dot and wondered if it resembled Ethan or Fox. Just as she was thinking about the paternity prospect, she began thinking back to when the baby could have been conceived recently enough for her not to know about it.

_When was it?_ Theresa asked herself.

It was her own anniversary and she had to curse herself for having to strain her memory for her anniversary date. That would give her a bar of comparison. If she could remember how many weeks it had been since her anniversary, she would know who the father was. Ethan had been two weeks before her anniversary… and after. And a few times after that.

Confronting the mystery was making her shake. A part of her was scared about the prospect of her baby's father. If it was Ethan, not only had she betrayed her husband, but she was also going to give his brother a child. If Fox was the father, Ethan had to be gone from her life forever in honor of the family she owed to her child. And she wasn't sure she could live with that.

"Okay, Mrs. Crane," Dr Angeles said as he turned off the monitor and handed her a paper towel to wipe her belly. "Everything looks good, normal. I'd say that you're looking at about five or six weeks, give or take. The conception date…" he trailed off as his eyes looked up in thought. "Let's see…," he said, mentally doing the math. "That should be about… April 17th." He shook his hand. "Somewhere around there." He smiled at her and snapped off his gloves. After he signed her chart, he headed for the door and walked out.

Theresa's heart had stopped, her blood frozen in her veins. Whether she wasn't able to move or the world had simply stopped, she wasn't sure she knew.

She knew one thing, however: her anniversary was April 16th.

______

"Whenever you're ready, Mrs. Crane. Your discharge papers are ready for you at the front desk," Nancy, the kind nurse, told her.

Theresa was once again staring out the window in her own thoughts. She heard Nancy's voice, but couldn't summon the energy to move. Her mind kept replaying the doctor's last words.

_Five or six weeks… April 17__th__. _

April 16th.

Fox was the father.

And then that's when she realized that with all of her heart, more than anything, she was silently begging for Ethan to be the father of her child. Maybe then, it would be the universe's way of finally letting them be together.

But once again, the universe told her that she should be with Fox—Ethan was not the man for her. And that realization had kept her frozen in her thoughts, her heart barely beating in her pain, her breath only enough to keep her alive. The thought of not being able to be with Ethan was deadening; the very life was seeping from her body.

"Mrs. Crane?"

This time, Theresa turned. She knew that Nurse Nancy was going to start getting closer, start prying. "I'll be right there," Theresa said softly.

Nancy nodded, noting the tears again. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything."

Theresa waited for Nancy to leave before she headed out of her hospital room. As she made her way out into the main lobby, she began thinking that she would have to call Harold to pick her up. Just as she was reaching the large desk, she noticed him sitting in the waiting area off to the right. He was hunched, his elbows resting on his knees, his head low, eyes to the floor.

"Ethan?" Theresa said as she reached him. He looked up at her, his eyes red. "What are you doing here?"

He stood up, his hand rubbing his eyes before looking back at her. "I came to get you."

Theresa stared at him, something laughing at her within. When she looked at him, she looked at him knowing that she loved him more than anything. And that there was another man's child growing inside of her.

"You okay?" he asked as he noticed her blank stare.

She nodded slowly. She tried to focus so that she didn't blurt out the truth and break everything they both knew.

"C'mon." He put his arm at the base of her back and ushered her out of the hospital with the comfort that she had needed for hours.

The car ride was quiet, Ethan occasionally looking over to her to make sure she was okay. She stared out the window, too scared to speak. Finally, Ethan stopped the car and Theresa looked around.

Ethan had taken them to the Harmony Cliffs next to the shore. They used to go there when they had dated, years before they knew anything about real pain. Late at night, Ethan would drive them to the top cliff. They would sit on the roof of his new car and stare at the stars as Theresa attempted to make wishes on every star she saw. And Ethan would stare at her the entire time, his heart growing with each wish she made. But what he didn't know was that each wish was the same; she only wished for Ethan to love her.

"Ethan, what are we doing here?"

Ethan didn't say anything and instead stepped out of the car before he went around and opened Theresa's door.

"Ethan? What—?"

"Shhh," he quieted her as he pulled her to her feet in front of him.

They were close; their bodies, their faces, close. Intoxicating. Ethan moved forward, only slightly, enough to leave a small sliver of space between their lips. He was tempting her, provoking her, making her mind spin. Theresa stayed put as long as she could, watching him slowly approach closer to her face. But then as he stalled in front of her, hanging time, she thought she would burst from the inside out if she didn't feel his lips against hers.

Ethan pulled her close, his need straining his body to be against hers. It wasn't out of lust. They were two halves of the same being and they simply felt incomplete without the other—they were torn pieces of the same cloth.

"I'm sorry," Ethan breathed as he pulled back. He kissed her forehead and wrapped her in a close embrace. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that," he confessed.

Theresa breathed a sigh of relief as she clung to him. Just being in his arms made everything seem doable and relaxed. "When you left," she began as the tears started welling, "I thought—I thought that—I'd never see you again."

"Oh god," Ethan said as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter. "Theresa, that could never happen. Never." They held each other, both clinging for dear life. And it was. Without each other, they were sure that they would die. "I just needed to think. I wasn't sure how to react with Fox… and with everything… I just needed some time to process." Theresa nodded against his chest. "But we'll get through this."

Then guilt hit her in the chest like a bull on charge.

"Ethan," said as she began pulling out of his hold. Ethan slowly loosened his arms. "Ethan," she said again. He pulled back, his eyes staring into hers. "There's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Ethan said, his lips in a smile. As her eyes turned back up to him, he realized that what she had to say wasn't going to be easy. "What is it?" He was suddenly becoming worried.

She breathed hard, her throat shaking as it let loose. "I… uh… I found out…" And then she stopped, her fear preventing her from continuing. "The doctor told me…" And she stopped again.

Ethan stared down at her, his chest starting to constrict. "Theresa?"

Theresa had to compose herself. She forced herself to breathe properly and began to memorize the feeling of Ethan's arms around her… for, perhaps, the last time. "I spoke to my doctor."

Ethan, for a split second, smiled. He had already had fantasies of their life as a family together. But then, as he took into account her hesitation and the tears that he could see within her eyes, he knew that what she was saying was going to shatter everything he knew and wanted.

He nodded. "Fox."

Theresa looked down to her hands that were pressed against his chest. She wasn't sure she could face him. As she began to look up, as she saw the early pain in his eyes, she realized that she couldn't look at him now. She couldn't watch the pain that she was going to cause him.

"I need to make a choice, Ethan."

He stared at her as if he didn't understand what she was saying. "Choice? What choice, Theresa?" She looked down at her hands when he took them in his. "This _is_ your choice."

She looked back up into his eyes, searching for the strength she needed. She knew that she could never have the strength for what she had to do. But it didn't matter.

"Are you sure?" And the tears in her voice could not be hidden.

Ethan was suddenly scared. He was at a loss. He was almost sure what she meant when she asked the question. He just didn't want to confront it—it would be too painful for him. Struggling to swallow all of a sudden, Ethan diverted his eyes from hers. That's when she felt it: the vice on her heart squeezing mercilessly. She was breaking him. Ethan dropped her hands and took a step back, his own shield coming up between them.

"Ethan, don't. Please," she begged. "I hate hurting you… Please."

Ethan inhaled deeply and stared far off to his side. Thoughts pounded into his brain. Everything that he knew and wanted converged into an image of Theresa. But it didn't matter. She didn't want him.

"Just tell me why," he whispered. "Why go through that again? Why, Theresa?"

Theresa stared at him, her own pain eating her heart. Looking at her feet, Theresa wrapped her hands around the belly that would be growing within the coming months. "Because it's time that I take my place with my husband and our child."

Pressing his lips together under his teeth, Ethan nodded. "His?" This time walking closer to her and stroking his thumb across her cheek, he couldn't have sounded more serious. "You don't know that, Theresa. It could be mine."

"The doctor said—"

"I don't give a damn about what the doctor said!" Ethan yelled. "_We_ belong together, Theresa! You and me! And that baby can make that happen."

Theresa began crying again. She knew what he was saying was true and she hated herself for wishing that the baby was only two weeks older.

"Just—just think about it, Theresa. Think how it could be." And then the wishes and dreams crushed upon her and she would have walked away if Ethan hadn't grabbed her hands and stopped her.

"Imagine, Theresa… that baby… a beautiful baby made by the greatest love the world has ever known." And then his voice got very soft. "Can you see him? Our little boy. He'd have your eyes… your beautiful eyes." She smiled. "Can you see him?" And for a brief instant, Theresa thought she saw a little boy running around a yard with dark golden hair and deep brown eyes. "And if it's a girl… she'll look just like you, Theresa. And she'll have your zest for life… and your stubbornness."

A tear dropped from her lashes to the ground and Theresa laughed. "No," she shook her head. "No. She'd look like her dad."

And she looked up to him and locked her eyes with his. Ethan's heart suddenly was begging hers to just think of what she just said. But the truth was that she could see it—the family they'd once spoken of when their love was new. Theresa knew, though, that it was impossible now. She'd have to give up the dreams she'd longed for. Again. Ethan saw her face fall as if she was dismissing the beautiful thoughts no matter how much she craved them.

"Theresa, wait," he called back her attention. Immediately, she tried to get away. "Listen, wait, Theresa. Imagine it. Our children… our beautiful children."

Theresa was begging herself and internally struggling to not be able to call up the images he spoke of. But she couldn't help it and her mind traveled to memories that could be real: Ethan's hand on her growing belly as they anticipated the birth of their family; both of them gleaming with joy and exhaustion as their first born was placed into their waiting arms; they stood holding hands as they watched their child run off for the first day of school; vacations and toys and laughter and warmth and family. Her tears had grown steadily in her desperation to make the dreams reality.

"And us, Theresa," he whispered. Then it was too painful and Ethan had to block her path when she tried to get away. "No, just think about it. We could _finally_ get married, Theresa. We could be together and not worry about anyone else." Then his voice grew seductive. "We could make love every single day, Theresa."

That was too much.

"No," she shook her head. "Don't."

She couldn't bear the thought of what she wanted most in the world and not take it. Ethan pulled her retreating hands even closer, this time the tone in his voice was begging her to listen with everything he had in him.

"No, Theresa, listen. We could make love all night, every night, Theresa. We could… fall asleep in each other's arms… and we could wake up and… lay together, Theresa. Just our bodies pressed together for hours. We could make love in the morning before the kids woke up…"

Theresa's eyes let tears loose and she tried turning her head to hide her agony from Ethan. With all the strength she had left, she tried to force away the images Ethan was conjuring up in her head. But it was too late. She could already see, smell, hear, and feel it all.

_The birds outside sung a soothing morning song, a wistful chirping that was light enough to be ignored and yet strong enough to focus on. The light summer breeze blew leaves and branches against the side of the house and the walls were filled with the sound of her calmly-beating heart. As she focused on it, she thought that she'd never felt such a soft heartbeat—such peace. _

_Her naked skin felt cool and silky against the thin sheet she had wrapped around her body and she took in a deep breath in the awe around her. She turned on her back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling that was becoming brighter and brighter as the sun lifted higher and higher in the sky. Stretching her feet long away from her, Theresa made a gratified moan. That was when she heard him wake. She'd been so caught up in the calamity around her that she'd forgotten about the warm body next to her. He exhaled strongly and also stretched and moaned as he turned to her. _

"_Good morning, beautiful," he sighed._

_Theresa turned her head on the pillow. He stared at her with sleepy eyes. And hungry eyes. The lust shining through his eyes brought memories that flooded her skin with warmth: the way he'd pulled her to him, the way he'd kissed her, the way his fingers brushed her skin, the way his breath felt on her throat, the way he felt inside of her… _

"_Good morning," she answered. _

_Ethan pulled her against him in his need to feel her body against his. He took her fingers in his hands and they both watched her tanned skin rise against his in the air. The goosebumps rose as fire split into her skin. With their left hands intertwined above them, they both stared at the bands that physically bonded them; they needed no symbol of their spiritual and internal bond. _

"_So, what do you think, Mrs. Winthrop?" Ethan asked as his fingers slid back down her extended arm. _

"_About what?" _

_Ethan leaned his head into the bend of her neck and breathed softly. "The kids will be up soon…" _

_Theresa crinkled her nose when his breath tickled her ear. Then she gasped as his lips attached to her neck and sucked. He had just ignited something within her. And then more flashes of the night before became more vivid in her mind. _

"_I was thinking," he breathed against her, "maybe we should use this time wisely… I mean, who knows when we'll get the chance again."_

_She smiled at both the brush of his voice and the temptation he was using against her. "Once in a lifetime thing, huh?" she joked with him. _

"_Exactly. The kids might never leave us along again until they're teenagers." _

_Theresa laughed a high squeak of humor cutting the room and she leaned into him. "Hmm… well they didn't have a problem with it last night," she countered as she remembered the hours that she and Ethan had spent in sweat and passion after putting their children to bed. _

"_Well," he tried to think of something while he inched closer to her mouth, "that was a once in a lifetime thing. Just like now." And then his lips were crushing against hers. _

_Managing to break free, Theresa said, "Well, if it's really just once in a lifetime…" _

_And they did their best to stay as quiet as they could as to not wake the sleeping children down the hall. It wasn't easy._

"Can you see it, Theresa?" He'd seen the cloudiness of her eyes and he knew that she'd just envisioned everything—if not more—that he'd just suggested. "Theresa, it would be amazing. Just you… me… our family."

The knife was slicing again.

"We'll sleep next to each other every night."

Cut deeper and his voice got the heady and seductive tone in it again.

"Imagine, Theresa…" And again she tried to push away the invading fantasies. "I'd…" His fingers brushed softly against the skin of her forearm and she tingled where his touch had been. "Isn't it that what you want? To wake up with me inside of you…"

The knife was suddenly plunged into a fiery blaze.

"You could wake up with me inside of you."

"No, stop, Ethan!" she cried. The pain was too great. "Just stop! Please…?" And then she was crying as she begged.

He was breaking her heart with every suggestion and every thought he pushed on her. Ethan's heart broke watching what it did to her. But it wasn't exactly easy for him to envision everything he wanted either. To see something so perfect and so right and yet not be able to do a thing about it was torturous. Theresa lifted her hand to wipe her eye and took a step back from him.

"That would be amazing, Ethan." She sniffed before turning up to face him. "But it's too late. That family that we wanted, the family that should have been us, will be me, Fox, and," she hugged her belly, "our baby."

Ethan's eye leaked a heavy tear. "No." His shook his head in protest. "No. It's us, Theresa. It's _supposed_ to be us!"

Theresa's arms wrapped tighter around her belly and she took another step back. "Ethan," she began and her voice was suddenly extremely serious.

He had no choice but to listen to what she was about to say. "Ethan, I can only say this once." She knew that having to say the words again would be like swallowing knives that would slice her throat open and spill her life out.

Ethan listened intently, his fear making his ears perk up—he could feel the danger beginning to swirl around him.

"Fox and I are married."

Cut.

"And we're going to be a loving family with our child."

Cut deeper.

"That family… doesn't include you. It can't."

Even deeper.

"Everything we had… we were," she choked, "forget it, Ethan. Just forget."

Ethan stayed where he was, shock and pain freezing him like a marble statue. It took him several moments to even think that what was happening really was. Then he nodded in his confused pain.

"Forget," he echoed.

Theresa looked up to him then, the pain in his voice slicing into her worse than the repetitive knife she kept feeling. Ethan wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead he looked away and wore the same expression that was on his face the day of the wedding.

"Right… Forget," he sighed, pained.

Theresa didn't know what to say. She knew that her arms were screaming to reach out and hold him, her lips dying to kiss away his tears, and her heart breaking to console his. She scrambled through solutions in her brain but nothing seemed to work. She could only follow what seemed right despite her heart.

Ethan, it seemed, lingered in his thoughts. He said nothing and couldn't even look at her. He focused on what she'd just said, the words echoing in his mind over and over again.

_Forget. Just forget. _

There were times when he wished he could forget her. But he couldn't.

Theresa stared up at him as she waited for some kind of reaction from him—it didn't come. She waited for his pleading, for his crying, for his anger, for his resolve… just a sign that let her know that it was hurting him just as much as it was hurting her. But there was nothing.

The truth was that he couldn't beg and plead anymore. Ethan was tired and after everything, he wasn't sure how it'd make a difference. As long as the child grew inside of her, as long as she had the knowledge that Fox was the father, there could be no place for him in her life. That brought Ethan out of his numbed daze. If he really had to let her…

"What if it's mine, Theresa?" he asked suddenly. Theresa was caught off guard. "What if it's mine? What if the baby's mine and not Fox's?"

"Ethan, don't," she quickly stopped him.

"No, really, Theresa. Would you be with me or would you fall into the ease of Fox's family."

"That's not fair, Ethan. You know that's not what I'm doing."

Ethan nodded as if patronizing her. "So if it was mine, you'd leave him?"

Theresa's wet and red eyes stared up at him. Her heart was breaking. If she admitted what she knew, she wasn't sure if she could go on. Accepting that she wasn't with Ethan was hard enough, but to have to think of other possibilities was just too hard.

"You wouldn't… would you?" Ethan wanted to cry again.

"I can't!" Theresa screamed. "It doesn't matter what I _would_ do, Ethan! The baby is Fox's! I have no choice…"

"You can choose me, Theresa," he whispered.

And she could have. She could have and for a brief instant, she got an image of her and Ethan sitting on a porch watching a small blond-haired toddler running around a green yard. She could feel the love and pride of their family. They would love their son and it would be everything they'd always wanted. But the boy… his eyes would be deep brown—not fiery blue. He would be an image of Fox and Theresa knew that she would never move past the fact that her child would always be a living reminder of what she did to Fox and her inability to be the wife she should have been.

Theresa suddenly shook her head and tried to shake off the pictures in her head. She looked up, again her eyes were crying. Tears fell and she had wet stains under her lashes.

"I can't…," she whispered.

Ethan felt his heart sink. Every time she reminded him that they couldn't be together, his heart broke in two. Again. Ethan reached out to her hands and took them in his. He softly grasped at her fingers before turning her hands palm down.

Theresa watched and thought she would scream in agony. It was hard enough to realize that loving Ethan and being married to someone else would never amount to anything but pain. This time, she couldn't punish her child because she was selfish. And she wasn't going to hurt Fox any further.

He lifted her hands and placed a kiss right above her knuckles. "Goodbye," he whispered.

Before Theresa had time to process his words, before she could react, Ethan had left her quickly and ran to the other side of the car. As she spun, he stepped on the gas and sped off away from her. He was gone.

"Ethan?" She stared after him, wondering if he was playing some trick on her.

It wasn't a trick.

It took her seconds to realize that he wasn't playing with her—Ethan wasn't coming back.

"Oh god…," she gasped. "What—what…?" She didn't even have time to feel the hot tears that were falling from her eyes. "Ethan!"

What had she done?

______

"Harold," Theresa said slowly into her cell phone. "I'm up at the Harmony Cliffs, right off of North Point. You know, the tallest one. Can you—?"

"Oh, yes, of course, Miss Theresa. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Without saying anything else, Theresa hung up. She snapped her phone closed again and listened to the empty sound it made close to her ear. She did it again. Still the same empty clap.

After Ethan left, she stared after him, finally falling to sit down. She watched the point of where he'd vanished, hoping against everything she knew to be true that she'd see his black Lexus come back into view. She waited and waited and waited. She sat there, on the cliff, for what seemed like an entire day as she watched the sun fade into the background of the sky until all she could see was an orange glow behind the ocean.

Ethan wasn't coming back.

Part of her wanted to crawl up into a little ball and die. The other part of her knew that it was best. She knew that she was going to have to learn how to live without him in her life and, especially now that she was going to solidify her family with Fox. Only, the part that wanted to die was much stronger.

As Harold pulled up close to her, Theresa didn't move. Instead, Harold jumped out of the limo and ran to her side.

"Miss Theresa! Miss Theresa, I came as fast as I could. Are you all right? Miss Theresa?"

Theresa looked up at him, the stained lines on her face long dried into tracks of mascara and smudged dirt that had blown up from the cliff. "I… Thank you, Harold," she said as she took his arm and helped herself up.

The drive to the Crane Estate had Theresa's mind blanked the entire time. She forced herself not to think on what had happened at the cliffs with Ethan; much too painful to relive, that memory was off limits. Thinking about going home to tell Fox the news also made her think of just what she'd lost in one day—a lifetime's worth of love. But now, what she was gaining, was a life that she would love. That Fox would love. And she would learn to be happy… no matter what.

Ethan had to be gone from her mind, her memory, her heart, her soul. The child growing inside of her would be her life now. As she focused on that thought, a part of her began to get excited. She had never thought of herself as the motherly type. With Pilar as a role model, Theresa hoped that she could do half as well a job as her mother had raising children by herself. Baby books, colors, patterns, cribs, stuffed animals, mobiles, blankets, and toys began filling her brain and she knew that in thinking about the baby ahead, she'd well be able to distract herself from the pressing pain of Ethan being gone from her life.

The metal gates opened for the limo and Theresa was driven around the cul-de-sac to her front door. As she stepped out of the limo, she swore that she could feel herself smile. Thinking about the baby had begun to provide an enormous amount of solace when she needed. Soon, she and Whitney would be pouring over wallpaper patterns for the nursery, clothes, and finding self-help books for mothers-to-be.

River pranced along in the foyer as Theresa entered her home and took her jacket quickly. Letting her know that Fox was in the bedroom, he scampered through the house as Theresa began her way up the stairs.

How would she tell him? Traditionally, aren't the fathers-to-be supposed to get cigars? Or a balloon? Besides, she needed something that would wipe the slate clean after their encounter at the hospital. She had to let him know that she was going to be devoted to her family from now on, no matter what; she would never jeopardize their future.

Fox would love the child, that she was sure of. He had always wanted the family unit that growing up as a Crane never allowed him. But would he forgive her? Could he even face her again? Had Theresa managed to lose both men that loved her in the same day? Would god really be that cruel? Theresa quickly resolved to beg if she needed to. If she'd already lost Ethan, she was going to fight to keep the family she gave him up for.

Otherwise… She couldn't even fathom what she would do. Holding onto the railing, Theresa pulled herself up the stairs and had to continually push the image of Ethan driving away with only a cloud of dust to accompany her in his wake. Theresa's hand unconsciously went to hug her belly. By reminding herself to think of the new life growing inside of her, she felt less pained and less selfish for saying goodbye to Ethan and ruining his hopes and dreams for the two of them.

_No,_ she thought. _No more Ethan. Fox._

And her arm held tighter across her torso. Upon the stairs leading to the third floor, Theresa began thinking of the room that she'd turn into a nursery, the name of the child… If it was a girl, something beautiful and soft, no doubt. A boy… a noble name, a strong name that had presence. And she had to clutch across her torso again to hold her composure—the growing baby was giving her more strength than she would have imagined possible.

Finally on the third floor, Theresa rounded down the corridor and passed the artwork that decorated the walls as if it wasn't there. She was beginning to get nervous in wondering how Fox as going to react. Holding her stomach tight, Theresa headed into her bedroom to find Fox sleeping. With his arms securely around Whitney's waist.

______

Pulling up to the spot that he was all too familiar with, than put his black car in park. Staring up through the windshield, Ethan spotted her window. He knew exactly how far up to shift his eyes without having to guess. Staring at the empty window, he wished he could see her standing there just one last time. Thinking back to how it once was between them, when all they did was stare at each other everyday, he wondered if it had been better that way. But he knew that deep down inside, he wouldn't have traded their newest memories for anything in the world.

Reaching over to this glove compartment, he dug around until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and began scrawling. Without something hard to write on, Ethan used his steering wheel to the best of his ability. Despite the strange texture of the curved and leather, the words poured out of him almost faster than he could write them.

_Dear Theresa…_

Ethan reread the words after he finished the letter. A part of him hated himself for what he was saying to her. But a part of him knew that he didn't have a choice—for his own sanity. Just as he was beginning to rethink the letter, he forced himself out of the car. Walking into the lobby of Crane Tower, Ethan headed for the elevator, just as he had grown accustomed to over the last few weeks when he paid his daily visits to Theresa.

As he ascended to Theresa's floor, Ethan stepped out of the elevator only to be immediately hit with Chris' singing voice. Approaching his desk, Ethan noted that another show for an unknown audience was taking place during Chris' newest interpretation of JLO's 'Do It Well'.

"Ahem," Ethan tried.

Chris danced in his chair before he turned to find Ethan staring at him. "Oh…,"he said as he pulled off his headphones. "Hey." Ethan smirked. "Uh, sorry. She's not back yet," Chris explained, inferring that Ethan's reason for stopping by was only related to the activities that he took part in with Theresa in her office during the day. "Maybe tomorrow." Chris smiled and put his headphones back on, assuming that Ethan would leave.

"No," Ethan began. "I just…" And then he pulled out a piece of paper from his breast pocket. "Do you have an envelope?"

Chris stared at him, confused for a second. "Oh. Yeah." After Chris gave him an envelope, Ethan tucked the letter in and handed it back to Chris.

"Can you give this to her, please? When she gets back?" Chris stared at the envelope suspiciously, wondering why Ethan wouldn't give it to her himself. But then he quickly realized that it was none of his business. As he took the envelope hesitantly, Ethan turned back towards the elevators.

He would miss the anticipation he felt of just stepping onto Theresa's floor. He would miss walking right past Chris and his newest attempt at Broadway at the Workplace. He would miss letting himself into her office. He would miss pressing her against the door, making her eyes lock with his. He would miss the way her mouth hung open after he kissed her. He would miss _her_.

But it had to be done.

The elevator dinged and Ethan stepped in. He said goodbye one last time and watched the silver doors close in front of him.

______

Could everything that had passed in the last few hours have been a dream? In all the scenarios that occupied her mind, Fox moving on quicker than it took her to make a decision was the last thing that she would have considered possible.

Her body was frozen, her legs stuck in their position. She stared at the intertwined two on her bed and almost choked. Her throat struggled to pass a breath. The only thing she could feel were fingers digging into her hip as she held her middle tighter and tighter. She was so still that her body began quivering. Theresa wasn't sure how long she had been standing there; whether it was only a few minutes, or if it had been hours, she couldn't tell.

Then Fox moved. Making the sound he always did when he first opened his eyes and attempted to stretch—the sound that Theresa was very familiar with—he rolled slightly, careful not to disturb the woman sleeping in his arms. As he woke, Theresa let loose the breath that she had been holding since she first walked in. Hearing the gasp at the door, Fox turned to see Theresa standing there, near ready to collapse.

"Theresa…?"

It was too early, too close to emotional trauma, for Fox to fully process what had just happened before him. All he knew was that Theresa was standing in the doorway, staring at him in shock. And pain.

Theresa stared on, locking eyes with Fox. Her breathing was hard and deep, as if she had been running for hours. What she saw before her was like watching a truck drive directly into her. She felt tears stinging at the back of her eyes, threatening to leak out. What she had just envisioned of family and babies and toys only seconds before, had suddenly left her mind. She began thinking about what she'd done and how she was going to fix it.

Her husband didn't want her anymore. He had chosen somebody else. He was laying in their own bed with his arms wrapped around his own wife's best friend. And she had sent the only man she could ever think of loving… away. She had told him to forget their love. She had stabbed his heart. Not once, but over and over again until it was mangled in pieces. She watched him go away. She watched him leave her life. But still, she was willing to sacrifice everything that she wanted for her husband. And she wondered why the fates hated her so.

Now she was watching her husband with his arms wrapped around another woman. And she wasn't going to have Ethan, she wasn't going to have the family that would comfort her from losing him. As she began crying, she tried to cover her mouth but she was unable to block a few gasps that escaped. With her standing there, he knew that it meant one thing: the baby was his. For if the baby had been Ethan's, he was sure that he never would have seen her again. Despite the fact that the knowledge cut into him like a burning blade, Fox couldn't deny the quick exhilaration that filled his heart at the silent news.

Finally able to fully comprehend just what was going on, Fox immediately pulled is arms from around Whitney and sat up. "Theresa, no," he said as he put his hands up in defense.

Tears rolled down and Theresa pressed her mouth harder with her hand to ensure that no sound would come out. She was shaking, unable to move her legs. Just as another wave of pain was hitting her in the chest, her hand fell back across her torso and grabbed tight. Without a cover to shield the sound, her throat let loose a gasping cry.

"Fox…?" Whitney said as Theresa's cry woke her from sleep. She rolled to the side, where he was just laying.

Somehow, the electricity was recharged in Theresa's muscles and she quickly turned and ran from the room. Fox quickly lifted himself from the bed without even looking at Whitney.

"Theresa!" he called after her.

And Whitney laid in bed, her humiliation starting to creep back over. She wasn't able to find her voice to call after Fox as he ran from the room after Theresa.

"Theresa! Wait!" Fox ran down the hallway and he was able to spot Theresa running down the stairs to the foyer. "Wait! Please!"

With one hand over her stomach, and one over her mouth, Theresa raced down the stairs and was grateful to see the front door so close. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, Fox's hand pulled on her arm.

"Theresa, please," he tried. "I swear it's not what you think."

Theresa stood rigid, her arm firmly grasped in his hand. She wanted to run away, she wanted to scream, she wanted to fall, she wanted to cry; she clutched her torso tighter. All she could think about was the dust behind Ethan's tires as he drove away. More tears came as she remembered the pain of collapsing and realizing that he was gone. She had let him go for no reason at all.

"Theresa…," Fox whispered. As he felt her body grow relaxed, he gently pulled her to face him. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Theresa stared at him, her eyes glassy and red. She believed him because she could see the sorrow in his eyes. But that didn't change what had happened. She shook her head, turning her eyes down.

"I should have known," she said through tears.

Fox pushed fallen strands of hair behind her ears and lifted her face back up. "Known what?"he asked tenderly.

Theresa's mind kept replaying images of Fox holding Whitney. "What I did to you was terrible, Fox. I don't blame you for wanting to move on… to someone else." She tried to smile through her tears to show that she was made of steel—the smile faded as soon as she pulled her lips over her teeth.

"What?" Fox asked as he again traced strands of hair behind her ear. "I… What happened with Whitney, Theresa, it meant nothing to me. Nothing."

Theresa stared at the floor, her mind flashing pictures of Ethan kissing her hand. Ethan driving away. The dust behind him. Collapsing. Then: _It meant nothing to me. _Theresa suddenly was able to focus on Fox's words. _It._ What was he telling her?

Without realizing her reaction, Theresa quickly pulled away from Fox. "What are you talking about?" she said angrily.

Fox's heart started breaking. It was then that he realized that she had no idea what had happened, and he had just informed her. He was going to destroy her and she was obviously already in the process. He hated himself even more for what he was going to have to do to her.

"What do you mean 'It meant nothing'?" she started shouting.

Fox took a deep breath, afraid of what he would have to say to her. "I'm so sorry, Theresa."

He hadn't answered her question and suddenly everything started to fall into place. Taking another step back from him, Theresa's eyes turned from agonized to furious. "You slept with her," she stated. Fox said nothing and at the shock, both of Theresa's hands went to wrap around her torso. "You. Slept. With. Her!"

The pain in her voice hurt Fox's heart. "Yes," he admitted in a sigh.

"But I…."

Theresa looked around in shock, unable to believe what was happening. Ethan was gone. She had said goodbye to the man that would never leave her heart. And for what? Her husband, the man that she had left Ethan for, had slept with her best friend. The world was collapsing beneath her feet and there was nothing for her to grab onto.

Theresa didn't know what to say. She felt lost in the fog that remained after a storm. Only the storm wasn't over and she knew that Ethan was on the other side of the thickening fog—but she had no way of getting to him now.

"Theresa…?" Fox asked slowly, afraid of her sudden silence.

She looked up with angry eyes. "We could have been a family," she said coldly.

Fox understood what she was telling him and his panic grew sharply. "But we still can," his desperation came out quickly.

Theresa shook her head in protest. "No. We can't." Staring him down, letting him know that she was serious, Theresa turned quickly and opened the door. Just as she was about to step out onto the porch, Fox grabbed her arm again, this time harder than before.

"Theresa, wait! Please! Let me explain!"

Theresa spun. "What is there to explain? I had an affair with Ethan, a man that I've always loved, a man that I gave up to be a family with you and our child. And you slept with Whitney." She stared at him, her eyes harder than he had ever seen them. "And that's it."

As she spoke of loving Ethan, Fox's heart felt as if it had died; atrophied and decaying, the muscle hung in his chest just as useless as an extra appendix. But his heart refused to listen to him. It refused to stop loving Theresa. And that refusal kept his heart alive—barely, but alive, nonetheless. Before he had a chance to get angry, which he knew would only push her farther away and end any chances that were left for them to be together once again, Fox quickly reeled back into his plea.

"Theresa, please." She tried for the door and Fox stopped her again. "No, it's not what you think. I had too much to drink. I was drunk," he began defending himself. "I was drunk and I was upset—"

"Stop it!" Theresa yelled.

"No, please, listen to me, Theresa," Fox pleaded. "I was drunk. I was confused. Whitney came to talk to me. All I could see was you, Theresa. I only saw you. I swear."

Theresa nodded in sarcastic understanding. "Yes, Fox! We look so much alike!"

"I swear! I was drunk. I didn't know what was happening, Theresa! I wanted it to be you, Theresa! I love you. Only you!"

Theresa thought about what Fox was saying to her and tried to imagine it. She knew there were times that she imagined Ethan above her as she made love with Fox. But she always had to push Ethan's image away. She never thought she was actually making love to Ethan while with Fox—it was always her imagination.

"Theresa, please… you have to believe me. That—that Whitney doesn't mean anything to me. _You_ mean_ everything_ to me."

Theresa's tears spilled over and onto her cheeks.

"Please… Theresa… don't go. I love you."

Looking down, Theresa nodded, trying to find her words. "I know," she said softly. "But I still don't believe you."

Fox panicked. "No, Theresa. Please! Don't do this! We can be the family that I always dreamed about! Give me a chance, Theresa! Please! I'll do anything… Please. I want to be a father!"

Again she nodded. "I know you do."

She felt as if something were trying to speak to her from the inside of her body, something quiet and distant. But what it was saying, she pushed down deep inside of her. Clutching her belly, she stepped on her toes and kissed Fox's cheek. She walked out of the house without Fox trying to stop her this time; he was too heartbroken to walk. This time he couldn't blame Ethan for losing Theresa. It was all his fault.

As he watched her walk down the steps of the house, Fox wondered if he would ever see her again. Something inside of him was whispering and he didn't want to admit the fact that he'd always known the answer: if there was a way for Ethan and Theresa to be together, he had no place in her life. And he had just given Theresa the way. The fury inside of him was building again, but it was a calmer fury. A fury built out of a brewing storm that didn't have the wind to support it. And he could swear that he could feel his heart detaching from his body.

He stared after her, watching her walk down the long driveway. As she approached the gates, he saw a long black limo near her. Theresa stepped in hesitantly and Fox felt his heart slip away. Theresa was gone, he was alone, his child was gone, and he was to blame. Feeling the onset of tears, the tears that Cranes weren't allowed to cry, Fox turned around quickly.

Then he saw Whitney.

She stood on the stairs, leaning against the railing of the second floor. Her hands were wrapped around the wooden rod for support, her chest still in breath, her eyes wide and wet. She looked like she was in shock. Again. She had heard everything that Fox said to Theresa.

_It meant nothing._

_Nothing._

Whitney had been forced through a shredder twice in one day and she couldn't take it anymore. She felt as if her mind were ready to break, just as her heart had. Fox looked up to her, his heart—whatever was left of it—broke yet again. He couldn't seem to escape hurting the women that meant the most to him. Looking up to her with more sorrow in his eyes, he watched her fall suddenly.

Whitney collapsed, her body falling against the railing, her throat letting loose a sharp moan.

______

Harold saw Theresa crossing the front lawn of the estate and wondered where she could be going. As she headed for the front gates, Harold put the car in drive and headed towards her. When the limo stopped next to her, Theresa was confused at first. When she recognized Harold sitting in the front seat, she quickly climbed in.

"Where can I take you, Miss Theresa?"

Barely thinking, let alone thinking straight, Theresa's mind worked without considering the consequences or what it could mean for the future of her child.

Ethan.

"Ethan Winthrop's apartment, please." As the words left her lips, Theresa felt a kind of release that had been building since she saw the dust fly after him.

Theresa sat in the backseat, slowly realizing that she had nothing important with her. Her purse was still at her house. It didn't matter, though, she thought. Ethan would take care of her. She bounced between different scenarios of how Ethan would accept her. He would see her and think her a mirage. He would be so happy that he would be brought to tears. He would take her in his arms and hold her tighter than he ever had. He would propose to her right then and there. He would say nothing, take her lips with his, and make love to her every single day as he'd told her when he explained how their life could be.

The closer they drew to his apartment, the more anxious Theresa became. She was sure that Ethan would understand her small lapse in judgment. Ethan didn't need to know about the most recent betrayal of Fox and Whitney; she didn't want him to think that he came second to her. Ethan was always first. She was just putting her child ahead of herself. But now she realized that Ethan was what was best for her child—there was nothing better than seeing the strongest love and growing up with it every single day, she was sure of it.

Soon enough, Harold made it to Ethan's apartment building. Barely waiting for Harold to stop the limo, Theresa jumped out and ran to the door. Entering the lobby, Theresa was about to get to the elevator when the concierge stopped her.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?"

Theresa almost ran into the desk, recognizing the man. "Yes! Hi. Can you let me up to Mr. Winthrop's penthouse, please?"

The concierge remembered Theresa. He had seen her often, going upstairs with Ethan. He had seen them quite regularly rushing into an elevator, and before the doors even closed, they had attacked each other and started removing clothes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. He hasn't returned yet. Perhaps you'd like to wait for him down here?"

Theresa checked her watch, curious as to where Ethan could be. He wouldn't have gone back to work. She had seen him a few hours ago and she found it odd that he was still out in Harmony without returning home.

Theresa smiled at the concierge and decided to have a seat by the door. She waited and waited, each minute slowly ticking by in painful anxiety. After almost forty minutes, Theresa gave the concierge a half smile before she returned to the waiting limo outside.

When she got back in the limo, Theresa wondered where she could possibly go. She didn't want to go back home, afraid of encountering Fox and Whitney again. The very thought of them wrapped in each other's arms in her bed made her arm fall across her middle. Realizing that she had no where else to go, and with Ethan still not home, she instructed Harold to drive to Crane Tower.

The building was empty, everyone gone for the day. But Theresa owned the building. She walked slowly to the elevator and dragged herself to her office. Opening the door, she noticed the large windows behind her desk. Immediately she thought of Ethan pressing his naked weight against hers on the window for all of Harmony to see. But she never cared. Despite everything that had passed during the day, she smiled.

Suddenly exhausted from the day's events, she went to one of the couches in the center of the room. Laying down, she was happy to be alone for just a few minutes. Now that everything was pointing her in Ethan's direction, she felt hopeful. Tomorrow, she would find Ethan, tell him everything. She would tell him that the fantasy that he had with the baby and with her was finally going to come true.

They could finally be together.

Staring up at the dark ceiling, she remembered opening her eyes to it only a few days before, before everything exploded in her face like a grenade. She remembered looking up, her chest hot and sweaty under Ethan. Her fingers had raked into his hair, her fingertips had pressed him close to her. They moved together, their breathing a mixture of sighs and gasps. Ethan had started shaking, his muscles growing harder. Theresa's hips had followed his as her hands pressed into his lower back to guide him. As Ethan had finished, he stared into her eyes, his throat pulsing and his chest heaving and said, "God, I love you."

Remembering the last time on the very same couch, Theresa couldn't help but smile again. She hoped that she and Ethan would once again find themselves in the same passionate embraces. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes to more memories of Ethan. And some were even fantasies for their coming future.

The next morning, Chris let himself into Theresa's office with some new proposals for her to look at. He laid the papers on her desk, spinning in a new number with "I'm coming up! I want the world to know!" And then he saw Theresa on the couch in front of him. Just as embarrassment flooded his face in a blush, he realized that she was sleeping still.

"T?" Chris approached her, almost not sure if he wanted to wake her. As he touched her shoulder, she twitched awake. "Hey."

Theresa rolled to her back and stretched. Chris was above her and she was still in her office—the office where she and Ethan had made so many memories.

"T, what are you doing here?" Chris asked, concerned.

As Theresa focused on her answer, she realized that Chris had no idea what had happened. Thinking back on what had passed in the day before, depression grabbed hold of her. Her memory focused on images of watching Ethan's tires spin away and the dust that flew behind them. Fox and Whitney… Before she began speaking of the most painful in recent events, she had to remind herself that Chris knew nothing of the baby and the sudden fall of her marriage.

Theresa explained that when she finally had decided to tell Fox what was going on between her and Ethan, she collapsed and woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later. She went into detail about how scared she was at first, wondering just what she had said in her unconsciousness. Yet, she realized soon afterwards, that Fox had already known of her betrayal.

"How long?" Chris interrupted suddenly.

Then Theresa paused. She realized that she had no idea; she never thought to ask just how long Fox had been silent while his wife continued to commit adultery with his half-brother.

"I don't know," she replied.

Chris cringed, imagining the scene before him. "How angry was he?"

Theresa thought about it, the tears coming back to her eyes as she remembered. "He wasn't." At Chris' confused stare, she added, "He was hurt."

Theresa continued telling the story, next moving to Ethan's arrival. Fox seemed calm and too composed. But as he taunted Ethan with the knowledge that the father was unknown still, he seemed to take pleasure. Theresa remembered Fox leaving, and then Ethan leaving. She told him that she didn't remember falling asleep, or even closing her eyes for that matter. All she knew was that she woke up in an empty hospital room alone with her face wet with tears.

Chris stared at her for a few minutes before he could find his next question. "So…," he began nervously, "who's the father?"

Theresa wiped a tear from her eye before she faced Chris again. Just as she opened her mouth to answer, her voice caught. It was almost as if she didn't want to say the words. With every resolve she had in her to take her life in Ethan's direction, a part of her still fell away when thinking about leaving Fox—the father—behind.

"T?"

Theresa could only smile at him, hoping that he would get what she was silently telling her.

Chris nodded. "Did you tell Fox?"

Then Theresa remembered her thoughts as she entered her home, thinking of her baby and themes for the nursery. And then she opened the doors to her bedroom. She felt as if she'd been hit with a tornado and the wind was funneled out of her body with a quick sweep. Everything had fallen away from her in that instant. Thinking back to it now, all she could remember were the blurring artworks on the walls as she ran past them, her eyes tearing rapidly.

"Yes, he knows," Theresa stated.

Chris noted the dark and far off look in Theresa's eyes. Understandably, he'd seen that look over the past two years and knew that it was her circumstances that had caused it. Yet, this was good for her. Finally, she was going to be able to gain some kind of change from it all. He was happy for her.

"This is good, T," he said, grabbing her hand. "You and Ethan have another chance." He smiled at her.

He didn't understand. Theresa shook her head. "No, you've got it wrong, Chris. Ethan isn't the father," Theresa whispered, turning her head down.

Then Chris did understand. That far off look in her eyes wasn't due to her guilt of betraying Ethan. The baby that was growing inside of her was not of the man she desperately wanted to be with.

"Oh…," was all he could think to say.

Just when Chris thought the story was done, Theresa continued. She went into details about finding Whitney in her bed with Fox's arms wrapped around her. At first, she began telling him, she suspected that he had simply decided to move on from his cheating wife. But then, as their confrontation grew, she learned that in a drunken stupor, he had slept with her best friend. And the family she gave Ethan up for was shattered in an instant.

Deciding it too painful to vocally relive Ethan leaving her on the cliffs, Theresa skipped that part of the story and cut it short to, "When I told him about Fox being the father, I also told him that I had to be a loyal wife." She added something about Ethan leaving quickly, but couldn't bring herself to go into it further.

"I… uh—" She had to wipe another tear before she continued. "I went to his apartment building and waited for him. I wanted to explain to him that I made a bad decision and I can't live without him." The words, ringing entirely true, seemed to cut her throat open and made her clutch around her neck for support. "He didn't show up so I came here."

Theresa finally turned back up to Chris, telling him that her story was complete.

"Wow," Chris said slowly. "Quite a day."

Theresa nodded, tossing the fresh wounds around in her head. "Yeah."

"Well, um, should I get you anything? You should eat something. You know," he said, pointing to her stomach, "because of your condition."

Theresa sat up, pulling the afghan off of herself, stretching. "No, thank you. I'm going to head over to Ethan's again and wait for him. I'm sure he'll take care of me." The way she said the last sentence made her smile and Chris could swear that he saw more light in her eyes than he had in a while.

That's when he remembered.

And he suddenly had an idea of what lay inside his drawer.

Theresa got up and started toeing on her shoes. "I'm just going to go to Ethan's, and everything will be fine," she sang.

Chris' heart broke for her. He could feel the darkness cloud over and he was suddenly afraid for her. But there was nothing he could do.

"Uh, T?"

Still smiling, she turned to him. "Yeah?"

"Ethan stopped in yesterday," he hesitated to tell her.

Something clicked in Theresa's mind and she smiled even greater. "Oh, that's why he wasn't home. He was probably here, waiting for me, right?"

Chris weighed his options and felt bad for having to be responsible for breaking her heart. Without having read the letter, he knew that what was written was not something that Theresa wanted or needed to hear.

Putting his hand up, Chris went to his desk to retrieve the envelope and returned to her office. He stared at the blank white envelope and knew there was nothing he could do now. He couldn't hide it from her, even it had wanted to. She would have eventually found out in a much harder fashion. As he handed it to her, he watched the smile disappear from her face. Perhaps she could also feel what was inside. Or maybe his own face had given away his fears.

"I'll give you a minute," he said, taking his leave and closing the door behind him.

The elation that Theresa had just felt was suddenly gone. The look on Chris' face was enough to tell her that something was wrong. She was scared and took the letter into her shaking hands, not sure if she had the strength to read. She stared at the envelope for a while, finally retaking her seat on the couch. She turned it over and moved the flap with her thumb. It had never been sealed, but it somehow felt as if it weren't open yet.

Summoning strength she knew she would need, Theresa grabbed hold of her torso and pulled out the folded piece of paper.

_Dear Theresa,_

_I need you to know something: I love you. More than you know. More than I know. And that's why I know I'm doing the right thing. _

_What we had, Theresa, is more than love. We share something that can't be explained in words or lived out in one lifetime. You always said it was fate. But if I've learned anything, it's fate for us not to be together. We've tested it many times, and it's time to accept that it just wasn't meant. I love you too much to keep pulling you in different directions. You know what you want now and I'm not going to stand in your way. I will remove myself from your life. I owe you that much after all the pain you've suffered at my hand. _

_You told me to forget. The truth is, I can't. I will never forget what it's like to wake up with you sleeping next to me. I can't erase your soft and vibrant smell from my mind. The way you feel, the way you make me feel, when you touch me, Theresa… I'll never be able to forget you, Theresa. Never. _

_But in time, I'm hoping that it'll all become a distant memory that I'll learn to live with. _

_I love you. Always._

_Ethan_

Theresa stared at the words, rereading the letter over and over again. The first time, she scanned the words quickly. But nothing really made any sense to her. She read the letter again from start to finish. Then something pricked her inside. The third time she read it, she could swear that something was beginning to saw at her ribs. The fourth time her eyes moved over the letter, her arm grabbed tighter against her body, finally realizing what she was reading. The fifth time, her fingers were digging painfully into her hipbone. The sixth time the sawing inside was becoming a ripping. Seven times started tears forming. The eighth read stopped her breathing. The ninth time, she thought that something had been plunged into her chest, allowing a fountain of blood to spill out. By the time she read it the twenty third time and noticed that the words hadn't changed at all, her hand fisted around the paper and she fell to the couch.

First in shock, she wasn't able to move. Then, as the words replayed in her head over and over again, her chest felt as if it were ripping open in flame. She could swear that someone had punched through her body, leaving a gaping hole. The hole began spreading, consuming her tissue, her organs, bleeding her life to the ground. The bigger the hole ripped open, the lower it seemed to spread. The pain rippled over her chest, down her ribs, to her stomach. Her arm grabbed even tighter, and then the pain got even worse. With the emotional torrents suddenly crashing down on her mixed with the physical pain, she couldn't be sure which hurt worse.

She turned her head down into the couch, grabbed her belly tight and screamed in her agony.


	12. Mass Destruction

**A/N : First, we must take care of bi'ness.  
I've gotten a quite a few emails about this story over the years that I thought I should clear up once and for all.  
_  
FAQ:  
Where is Little Ethan and Jane?  
They do no exist in this story. I prefer not including them because then all everyone ever wants is the FAMILY stuff. I'm much more interested in the drama. So... imagine everything happened as it did on the show up until... 2003, minus the Little Ethan part, yes. Just assume Ethan and Theresa broke up because of something else. Use your imaginations. :)_**

**_Are Ethan and Theresa psychic?  
No. Nope. Nine. Never. But I thought it was a cute little quirk to make them be able to "hear" each other's hearts. No, I've never experienced it and am not claiming it as realistic._**

**_Is Mariel Gwen in disguise?  
No. Where do you people get this? Maybe I'm just not as creative as I thought... anyways, no she's not. Mariel is just another rich blond bitch. Similarities between her and Gwen are coincidental._**

**_Where did you get a name like Mariel?  
No, I didn't make it up. A girl in my PreAlgebra/Trig class my junior year of high school (yikes! I'm a senior in college now!) was named Mariel and I liked the sound. If it's not a real name, her mom made it up, not me._**

**_Was Fox in love with Whitney before he married Theresa?  
For the purposes of this story, no. Whitney was a friend and he just fell in love with Theresa when she turned to him after breaking it off with Ethan._**

**_Does Fox know that Theresa was with Ethan before they started dating?  
Not really. He's pretty positive it was Ethan, but has no confirmation. It was a secret. But then again, he knows that Theresa wouldn't have been that broken hearted over someone else. Take from that what you will. _**

**Thank you from the bottom of my heart for still caring about this crazy story of mine. Find a comfy chair and make sure you have a little while. This is the longest chapter yet!  
--Sophia**

* * *

_**Chapter 11: **_**Mass Destruction**

Theresa's toes bounced up and down on the floor and caused her to rock the leather chair she sat in back and forth. The squeaking noise of the leather moving against the metal cradle of the chair was the only sound in her empty office. She had been sitting all day. Or perhaps it had been more than one. But it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Her left hand hung off the armrest, Ethan's letter crumpled into a ball by the clenched fist that hadn't relaxed since she first read it. If she had been able to feel, she would have registered that the tendons strained over her knuckles had begun throbbing and her fingers were frozen and sore in their coiled position—but she was numb. Completely frozen without feeling. If she let her mind focus on anything other than the slow-moving clouds in the sky outside her window, she would die from the pain, she was sure of it.

It didn't seem real, Ethan's letter. His words, his writing. Yet it wasn't from him. It couldn't be. He would never give up on her. He promised her, months ago on the wharf, that he had never given up on her and never could. He said that his love for her would be forever, eternal. The way he kissed her, the way he held her, the way he fought for her… he couldn't have written the words that dismissed him from her life.

He couldn't have.

But in reality, it had been two days since she woke up to have Chris hand her the letter that changed everything she thought. It had been days since she'd last seen Ethan, last kissed him. And it had been days since she felt her heart beat naturally. The blood that pulsed through her was in direct violation of everything she felt. She felt dead inside. Every movement that coursed through her was like sludge fighting its way through her system. She didn't want to breathe anymore. If she had been able to feel, to move, she might have thrown herself out of the huge window that she now sat in front of.

The tears had stopped sometime after she first read the letter, the dried black smudges beneath her eyes evident of it. Her body had become dry at that point. She cried until the cushions beneath her were stained with saltwater. But the pain didn't stop no matter how loud she screamed or how hard she cried. It still ached like a serrated wound that constantly rubbed against sandpaper.

The memory flooding into her consciousness sent her right arm over her torso. She clutched tightly and fought to forget the physical throbbing in her belly. It took all her concentration to keep from screaming. Staring out at the seemingly-peaceful Harmony was a small distraction from the pain. But the letter balled in her fist, the words and implications that were in her hand, quieted everything else. And as she focused on Ethan's final words to her, she could feel nothing.

_It'll all become a distant memory…_

A distant memory. Nothing but a memory. That's all they would become to each other. Focusing past the immeasurable pain in her gut, Theresa thought to the future. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she would be able to think back to Ethan as just a fading memory—a picture of a time passed in life. The answer was simple.

No.

Ethan would never be just a memory to her. He never had been. When she ended their affair years ago, he was never just a memory. She dreamt of him every night, thought of him constantly, and searched for the familiar pulses of his heart every chance she got. Even she when she married another man, he was more tangible to her than ever before. She was aware of his every movement. He was a part of her that would never die.

Until now.

She could feel something inside of her dying. Something was tearing and ripping itself away from her life force. Like a piece of paper torn in two, the ripping echoed in her very veins. And then she wondered if the severed pieces silently screamed for their torn halves, if the fibrous ends pulsed in pain for having lost their mate.

The pain was becoming more and more evident and she once again had to distract herself to ignore it. She pulled her left hand up to examine the crumpled ball in her fisted hand. Wincing against the coming cramping in her torso, she reached over and gently relaxed the tendons that had become longer in the time they had been stretched over her finger bones.

"T?" accompanied the light knock on the door.

But Theresa didn't pay attention and she continued to pry open her hand. Slowly, blood flooded into her fingertips again and the nerves came back to life in a tingling pain. Theresa let out a shaky and sharp breath. Once again, she forced herself to remain calm in the building pain she felt.

Nothing was more painful than losing Ethan. Thinking on that, her body went numb again and she was able to ignore the fire that poured into her numb hand and the vice-like grip in her belly.

"He's not coming, T," Chris said from the door.

But she barely heard him. Instead, after pulling the paper from her talon-like hand, she ironed it out against her knee in smooth motions with her palm. The creases rippled out and left the paper weaker than when it was first pressed into sheets.

"T? Did you hear me?"

She didn't answer and Chris walked over to her chair. Her focus never left the creased letter when he knelt next to her. He stared at her, then down at the letter, then back up at her and the stains beneath her eyes.

"It's almost six, T. He's not coming."

That was something that Theresa hadn't thought about. Ever since the day on the wharf, when things in her life flipped over and turned inside out, Ethan hadn't been outside her window. There was no black Lexus to look for. In the weeks after the first night she spent at his apartment, he would find a way to see her. He would surprise her and lock himself in her office, blocking her from the escape she didn't want. Sometimes he would sneak her out of her house and have his way with her in the backseat of his car like a teenager.

Now sitting in front of the window that had come to mean so much to her, she realized that another aspect of her life had gone empty. He had taken that hope from her as well. But she knew better. Ethan didn't take anything from her. Instead, she gave him reason to leave.

And she had no one to blame but herself.

Chris noticed that she continued rubbing the surface of the letter against her knee. Lifting her eyes, she looked back out the window and into the distance of Harmony. As if acting to prove him wrong, Theresa looked down at the parking spot that would hold Ethan's black car at 5:30 every day. But he wasn't there.

Suddenly scared for Theresa's sanity, Chris placed his hand on top of hers and stopped her from tracing over the letter again. When her hand stopped beneath his, he saw that her throat quivered and a film clouded over her eyes for a brief instant. He could swear that he saw her wince, but then fought it back when she looked down at the paper on her knee.

"T… T, you have to get out of here. You have to move."

Gently, Chris pulled her fingers up and pried the piece of paper from underneath her hand. When he took it completely, she turned to him and snatched it back quickly, her eyes defying him in anger. She stared down at him for what seemed like ten minutes, the fury clear in her eyes. For the first time since he started working for her, Chris was afraid of his boss.

"I knew this was going to happen, you know."

Her voice was so soft that he wasn't sure he'd heard her speak. But he was sure that he'd seen her mouth move and he had to listen close to her whisper as she kept speaking.

"Years ago… before I married Fox." Before Chris could question what on earth she was talking about, she continued. "I had a dream."

Confused, Chris petted her head like a child that just had a nightmare and needed reassurance. "What—what are you—? You knew what was going to happen? T, what are you doing talking about?"

She nodded as if she were answering an imaginary question in the distance outside the window. "I knew that Ethan would leave me when I got pregnant." And she continued staring out the window with glazed-over eyes. "Years ago," she continued, "before I married Fox, when Ethan was still married to Gwen…"

Chris was even more worried that she was detaching herself from reality. "T, what are you talking about? How could you know what would happen now before you were even married?"

When Theresa closed her eyes, she recalled the dream she'd had more than three years before. It was still so real to her that she could swear that her belly had swelled to the size it would become in several months. She reached down to hold the firm bulge in her belly, but it was still flat when she opened her eyes. In the background of her hearing, almost as if it were really happening, she heard herself screaming for Ethan, elated that they were going to have a child together. Then she heard her voice change from excited to desperate when he refused to look at her. More and more desperate she sounded, pleading for him to come to her. The more she called him, the softer her voice became until suddenly, there was nothing.

"Ethan and I…" It was hard for her to say his name without flinching. "Before Fox, we were together."

Chris didn't need clarification to know who she was referring to in "we". He nodded before confusion hit him. "But… I thought you said he was married to Gwen."

Theresa didn't shift her eyes from the darkening sky outside her window. "He was."

Then Chris understood what she was telling him. He waited for her to continue and reassured her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I had a dream that I got pregnant… and he left me." She paused, clearly battling with her tightening throat. "So I ended it. I had to." Another long pause of silence followed before her eyes focused. "And I married Fox."

Chris' heart just continued breaking for her. Before he could stop himself, he started speaking. "But, T, you chose Fox, right? What was Ethan supposed to do?"

Her eyes flashed closed and a sharp exhale left her mouth at the mention of his name. A part of her knew he was right. She did make a choice; the wrong one. The dust that had spun behind Ethan's tires felt like it was choking her lungs at that moment. She was lost in the cloud of dust, completely covered. It was surrounding her, killing her. But a part of her also felt like it didn't matter. They were supposed to love each other forever. No matter what, Ethan was never supposed to give up.

Suddenly, a selfish wave came over her. Almost as if something was speaking to her from the past, she flashed back to the day that she called Ethan to her house. She remembered what it was like to feel him embrace her knowing that it was going to be the last time. The hurt in his eyes didn't even begin to reach the heartache she felt ripping through her chest that echoed his own.

She made a choice once, years ago. And she betrayed the eternal promise to her heart—just like Ethan was doing now. Putting herself in his position, she knew she couldn't blame him for leaving. But it still hurt.

No.

Hurt didn't even begin to cover it.

She was dying inside. Something was ripping away from her, she could feel it. The serrated edge was sawing against her sternum, cutting into the hollow that held her heart.

Theresa turned to Chris and wiped the tear that was leaking to her lower lashes. "What did you find out?" she asked, her voice cracked with hoarseness as if she hadn't spoken in days.

Chris' face fell in sympathy for her. She was hiding her pain even though it was eating her alive. His answer made his head fall in agony for her.

"Nothing, really. His assistant doesn't know anything, or won't tell me. I haven't been able to get access to his credit statements… no one's seen him around."

Theresa nodded numbly, again looking out the window. "What about his building?"

Chris cleared his throat in apology before he continued. "Lobby security is changed every six hours. None of the guards have seen him for two days. As far as they know, he hasn't officially moved out."

Theresa fell silent and still again. The clouds moving ever so slowly in the distance were her focal point. She knew that in just a few minutes, the sun would set completely and the world would go dark again—much like her world had figuratively become.

Ethan was gone.

_I will remove myself from your life._

Ethan was gone.

_A distant memory. _

Ethan was gone.

The numbed pain was fading into something different. No longer able to feel physically, all she could feel now was emotional and it was getting more and more real with every passing second. And it was getting stronger. Before she knew it, tears were falling from her eyes.

Gripping tightly across her mid-section, ignoring the pulsating in her abdomen, Theresa folded into herself and an agonized moan fell from her lips. She tried to cover her mouth before she cried out, but the waves of pain crashed upon her much too quickly for her to react in time. Tears poured from her eyes, her neck fell back to allow the building pain to escape her chest, her arms squeezed harder against her body, and the letter floated to the floor as if it held no meaning.

"Oh god… I can't do this, Chris!" she cried. "I don't—I can't—I'm—" She began hyperventilating, her lungs in spasm for quick air. "Where is he?! We have to find him! I have to find him!"

In that instant, Theresa was finally admitting to herself her worst fear. Above everything else, she was desperately afraid that there was a hidden meaning in Ethan's letter. She was forcefully trying to keep herself from focusing on the fact that his letter, his last communication to her forever, was his way of saying goodbye to her—to the world.

Flashes of Ethan with a pistol in his hand, slumped over the Victorian armchair in her foyer, kept creeping into her mind. First it was Fox in her dream, and in reality… but as more time went on, the man in the chair became Ethan.

He pulled the trigger and turned the light in his eyes out for good.

"Chris, you have to help me find him!" she begged through her tears.

Chris' heart broke for her. The pain that she was finally releasing was like the other night when she first read Ethan's letter. When he closed the door behind him to give her some privacy, he knew it was going to be bad. Something in his gut told him that it was going to break her heart. Yet, he wasn't sure what to do. Several minutes later, a wrenching scream echoed through her office. When he opened the door, Theresa was face down on the couch, her mouth pressed into the cushions. Yet, even through layers of fabric and plush, the sound was as loud as if she had no noise barriers at all.

"I will, don't worry," he tried to soothe her. "We'll find him."

Nodding quickly, Theresa thanked him and wiped the tears from beneath her eyes.

______

Fox was getting worried. After Whitney collapsed at the top of the stairs, he carried her to his bedroom and immediately called a doctor, too afraid to move her anymore. He was afraid that she had a concussion, or even worse. Besides that, he wasn't even sure what kind of psychological damage he'd inflicted yet.

The doctor informed him that she was in a minor state of shock, but would be fine after some rest. When he asked what had happened to her, Fox could only look away, afraid of the guilt showing in his eyes.

That was two days ago. In that time, she hadn't moved from his bed. She hadn't even rolled to the other side, curled in the same position. At night, Fox entered the room silently and kept vigil in a chair by the door, afraid of leaving her, afraid that she might mistake his absence as abandonment. And he couldn't let her think that he didn't care about her or what happened to her. He needed her to know that he cared for her.

Now, as he stared at the knob to his bedroom door, he thought back to a few nights ago when he used her as nothing more than his own personal punching bag. Dizzy and lost in his own drunken hell, he took his anger out on his best friend—the only person that had ever truly been there for him, the only person in his life that had never and would never betray him.

Opening the door to his bedroom slowly, he peeked in hesitantly. She laid on the bed, curled on her side, hugging one of the large goose-down pillows. He listened for the sound of sobs, but all he heard was the steady intake of breath. Without a word, Fox stepped in and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He looked over to her and waited for her to react to his entry. She didn't move. Just looking at her now, it made his heart ache for what he'd done to her.

It was all suddenly beginning to make sense in the cloudy recesses of Fox's mind. She'd always been there for him, without question. She always sacrificed her time to help him, she was always there to listen when Theresa said Ethan's name in her sleep, she was always willing to lend him a shoulder and encouragement. For years, he just thought her the best friend he could ever ask for. Now he knew it was much more than that. And worse, he'd ruined not only the best friendship he'd ever had, but also the love that she undoubtedly felt for him.

Clearing his throat, Fox continued to test the room, wondering if she would turn to him. But she didn't. Cautiously on guard, as if he were waiting for her inevitable spring at him, Fox walked slowly towards her side of the bed. He was surprised to see that her eyes were open, though they did not turn to him. She stared out blankly towards the nightstand and didn't react in the slightest as he approached.

Fox stopped only a foot away from the edge of the bed, unsure if he were already going too far. The only movement he could make out was the faint rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed. It was so rhythmic that he thought she'd simply fallen asleep with her eyes open. Still taking another chance, he moved closer and sat on the small space of open bed next to her thighs.

That's when her eyes moved to him quickly. Her expression was full of warning. Fox felt himself mentally recoil from the fury in her eyes, knowing he deserved nothing less than her hatred.

"Hey," his breathy voice shook out hesitantly.

Whitney didn't say anything and allowed her eyes to keep focus on him for a hanging moment longer before she looked away, back into nothingness.

Fox let several minutes of uncomfortable and painful silence pass over them, unsure of what to say, if anything at all was appropriate. Tentatively, almost as if asking permission, he traced his hand in the air over her spine before finally settling it down against her back. Her posture tightened minutely, silently telling him all he needed to know. Seeing her reaction, without a word, Fox lifted his hand from her back and rested it back in his lap, the guilt and frustration washing over him completely.

More silence followed them, Whitney's tense and strained position remaining just as frigid as when he first touched her. He wanted to rub her shoulders, erase all tension and pain from her muscles. If only that was the only thing he needed to erase…

Breaking through the silence, his quivering voice asked, "Can I get you some water? Anything?"

Whitney's eyes remained cold and transfixed at nothing in particular towards the window, just beyond the corner of the nightstand that was undoubtedly in her field of vision.

"Whit?" he tried again, laying his hand against her spine.

This time she flinched and leaned away from his touch.

"Don't touch me."

Her stare didn't falter from the distance and she spoke through clenched teeth—clearly channeling her anger. Fox exhaled painfully, hurt that she wouldn't let him help her.

"Can I at least get you get you something to eat?" he asked, almost pleading. "You haven't eaten in two days since you got here."

There was no answer and Fox felt completely defeated. He knew he had no right to even ask to help her. Just about to give up, Fox began lifting from the bed when Whitney spoke finally.

"Why do you care?"

Never before had Fox heard her voice so cold and hard. Quickly he realized that he did that to her—he made her cold and hard. In shock at both her tone and her question, he sat back down.

"What?" The surprise in his voice was almost extreme.

Whitney's angry eyes flashed to him quickly, the scowl on her face not lost. "Why do you care? I mean nothing to you, remember?"

Fox didn't know to say, wounded deeply by her misconception.

"That's what you said, isn't it?" she continued. "You told Theresa that I meant nothing to you."

Fox's mouth fell open and snapped closed again. At a loss of what to say, Whitney's eyes stared at him, through him. She watched his mouth open and waited for his excuse, for his pleading, for some attempt at an apology. But he said nothing and her pain increased exponentially.

No matter how badly she wanted to look at him as she once used to, she couldn't. As soon as her mind was able to focus on him, for the first time in two days, the memories of what he'd done to her pelted like stones falling from the sky. First, Fox had kissed her. Then he made love to her.

No. He made love to Theresa—strong, painful love.

No. That wasn't love—it was hate.

And he took it out on his imaginary Theresa and the very real Whitney. Then he apologized. Then Theresa came and Fox said that she was nothing. It meant nothing. Whitney was nothing to him. And yet, he was with her still. Despite what she remembered, what she knew to be true, the pain rushed back and infuriated her.

"Whitney… you—" His mouth kept opening and closing as if it would produce the words he couldn't seem to be able to speak, but the silence only made her anger and curiosity ten times worse. "You—you have to know… you don't mean nothing to me. You mean—" he caught himself quickly, reeling back on his words, "you could _never_ mean _nothing_ to me. Never."

Whitney's eyes moved from their solid position staring out the window and turned back to him, surveying him intensely. She stared at him, asking questions with her eyes, wondering if he was telling her the truth. As if taking cue from her sudden vulnerability, Fox scooted closer to her and rubbed gentle circles on her shoulder. Her expression softened for a brief instant.

She imagined the implications of what it would mean if he were telling her the truth—if she did mean more to him than he'd let on. But as quickly as she was able to hold on to that possibility, it faded away just as fast, if not faster. All she had to do was remember the way he kissed her, the way he touched her body and made her cry; he'd made her soul bleed.

"No," she said quickly, lifting herself and pushing away from him.

Instinctively, his arms reached back out to her, eager to hold her, to touch her. But she pushed his hands away and had to fight against his block when he stood and tried to prevent her from leaving. Despite her anger, she couldn't bring herself to strike him the way she most desperately wanted. Simply pushing him aside, she stepped around him and quickly made for the exit, snatching the knob and tearing the door open before fleeing into the hallways of the enormous mansion.

"Whitney!" she heard him calling after her.

She had to push through every instinct that was screaming in her to go back to him. Her heart lurched in her chest and spun in its hollow when she heard the pain in his voice. Just as she reached the staircase leading to the second floor, she could make out the sounds of his fast footpaces behind her. The last thing she needed was for him to be near her, trying to confuse her or steal the anger she needed to hold onto.

He called her name again, and again she had to mentally fight with herself to not turn back. Weak from hunger and dizzy from unrest, Whitney had to fight through her ailments to run quickly, naturally, and not give him the chance to catch her. The adrenaline and anger were pounding faster in her veins and she suddenly found it more difficult to move as quickly as she wanted to.

Her feet hit the marble floor of the second floor and she sprinted down the hallway towards the next staircase. He was still behind her and she could see the front door—her escape—just a floor below. Whitney spun around the banister and practically threw herself at the stairs, almost tripping over her own feet and racing to the door past River's curious glance. The house maid shuffled away as he noticed the impending confrontation, his feather duster fluttering behind his retreating body.

Fox jumped over the last eight stairs and fell to the marble foyer floor with a hard thud, his wince sufficient evidence that he would pay for his mistake shortly. Ignoring the pain that sprung up from the soles of his feet and into his shins, up his thighs, and even higher up through his shoulders, he ran for her.

"Whitney!" he called, catching up to her as she pulled the front door open.. "Stop, stop, stop! Please."

His touch on her shoulder caused a stir of emotions inside of her. The same warm sensation that propped against her skin whenever he was near her came alive, but so did the cold shudder that was caused by her newest and most painful memories.

Even now, days past the horrific experience, days after he'd held her reassuringly and apologized, she could not get past the image of him moving above her in a drunken and sweaty daze, his mouth moving over her skin and whispering another woman's name. Not even in her wildest nightmares could she have imagined that her Fox would ever cause her so much pain.

But he had.

And now he was touching her, begging her not to leave.

He had reached for her arm and grabbed firm, pulling her to a stop. She turned to face him, unsure of what to do or even what to think. She had her feelings, the heart that had been mangled almost beyond recognition, and also the memories that were in deep need of suppression.

"Please…," he begged softly. "Please. Don't leave me."

The hard and angry eyes that were cast his way suddenly melted when she heard the pain in his voice. He was truly a defeated man, having lost more than she could ever have imagined. In just a few short hours, he'd managed to lose his wife, his family, his brother, his best friend, and next, most likely, himself. The look in his eyes was beyond tortured and Whitney—despite everything she was going through—couldn't stand it.

"Don't leave me," he begged in a whisper.

Fox looked down to his feet, almost conceding to the fact that she was going to leave no matter what he said or how much he pleaded. He didn't deserve her, that much he knew. Still looking down, he removed his hand from her shoulder and took a step back. He was letting her go, silently giving her permission to send the final stake through his heart.

Whitney's heart plummeted when he stepped back, retreating. He was a completely broken man. So many mornings did she rush to his office after an urgent call to see much the same look on his face. It was always the same—Theresa. She had said Ethan's name in her sleep, or she was pulling away from him again, or he found her crying in her office when she thought no one else was home.

But now that look was not for Theresa. For the briefest of instants, Whitney felt some sort of hope make birth in her chest. Maybe the look in his eyes, the pain on his face…

But it didn't matter.

_It meant nothing. _

The memories haunted her again, his roughness, his kisses, his body fighting against her in tainted love. She loved him, yes. Too much. Fox didn't know, and he obviously didn't care just how much she loved him. Only hours after she'd finally confessed her heart and allowed herself to repair, he'd taken it all back.

_Nothing. _

Whitney nodded to herself and stared at Fox again. Staring at his face now, she saw no remnants of the hungry man that laid above her and made her cry out in pain. She saw no demon, no monster. She saw a bleeding being, cracked and damaged.

"Nothing…," she repeated to herself quietly.

Fox looked up when he heard her speak. His face contorted into more pain when he realized just what she was referencing with her last word. It was his word. And the only one that made any difference, the one that changed his world.

"Please," he begged again, taking a step towards her, his arm reaching out for her.

Whitney pulled her shoulder away from his touch and looked up to him, straight in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Fox."

Fox made no move or effort when she stepped back through the door and closed it behind her. The sudden darkness in the foyer cast by the closed door hung over him. His legs throbbed from his jump but he couldn't bring himself to move. He stared at the closed door, wishing he'd see a sliver of light bust in on him and shine in the empty foyer again. Alone in his house, Fox could only think of one thing that might help him through all his current loses: _It meant nothing. _

And it was a lie.

He tried telling himself that he would survive. No matter how much he had to deal with, it meant nothing. He'd be able to continue living another day. Forget Theresa, forget Ethan, forget Whitney. All he needed was himself and he was sure to go on, just as strong and alive. It meant nothing.

Theresa was nothing. She was his wife. He loved her with his entire being, so much that it hurt. And it hurt even more because she was gone.

Ethan was nothing. He was his brother. And he took the only woman he had ever truly loved away. He was gone, Theresa was gone, and Fox hurt.

Whitney was nothing. She was his friend, his best friend. And he hurt her beyond what he would ever consider himself capable. Now she was gone. And he was utterly alone.

It all had meant far too much to him. So much that it was sucking him dry of any and all life. Tested to his limit, he could take no more. Everything was taken from him, everything was gone and destroyed. He blamed himself. He blamed Theresa. He blamed Ethan. And a part of him even blamed Whitney for the tremendous agony he was feeling.

The pain in his legs collapsed with his muscles as he hit the marble. He had nothing but the cold floor to console him, though nothing ever could.

______

Chris had the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder when Theresa emerged from her office. As he looked over at her, he couldn't believe how defeated she looked.

Her hair, though not extremely out of place, it clearly looked as if she had spent hours running her nervous fingers through it, and she most likely had. Her clothes were the same she'd worn for the past two days and they were wrinkled and disheveled. Her makeup had run in black smudges that ran down to the hollow of her throat and around her cheeks in splashes of gray and black that used to be elegant lines of mascara and eyeliner. Her eyes were swollen, cracked red from not sleeping. The worry showed plainly in the creases in her forehead and the way her mouth turned down at the corners sucked the radiance she once possessed into another lifetime.

"I'm on hold again," he explained to her softly, tilting the receiver up towards the ceiling.

Theresa nodded as she approached his desk and took a seat on the corner, watching him closely. Chris felt like a failure for not getting Theresa the information that she needed, but he was doing his best.

"Did you give them my name?" Theresa asked, still looking down at the floor.

"That was the first thing I said," Chris admitted.

The nervous anger was building in Theresa's chest again, but the numbing agent of worry and depression suppressed it into nothing as she continued waiting in silence with Chris.

"Yes, hi! I've been trying to get someone that can authorize the release of statements for a customer…," Chris explained to the voice on the other end, hopefully.

Theresa's eyes watched him carefully, hopeful that he would snap up and tell her just where to find Ethan.

"But you see, this is for Theresa Crane. She needs to find—"

He tried to continue but was interrupted by someone that didn't seem to flinch at the sound of the C word.

"I understand that, I do, but it's just—"

At another interruption, he looked over to Theresa and apologized with his eyes, trying to let her know that he was trying his very best to help her.

"Ma'am, if memory serves, your company is a subsidiary of Crane Industries. Correct? Now, if need be, your job can be vacant tomorrow morning." He let that hang in the air between them, a smug smile on both his and Theresa's face. If nothing else, threatening by Crane power always worked.

Smiling to himself for his own efforts, Chris reached down to look at his notepad on his desk as he scribbled something down.

"Great. Fantastic. Oh, no, a messenger isn't necessary. You can just fax it over. That'd be great. Thank you. Mrs. Crane thanks you as well."

When the phone was back in its cradle, he looked up to Theresa whose defeated appearance brightened in the slightest bit as she guessed at his triumph. She waited eagerly for him to reveal whatever he was able to weasel out of the credit card company using her last name.

For a split second, she cringed at the idea of using her name—Fox's name—to help her get to Ethan. The guilt crept up powerfully in her chest and threatened to escape with an explosion of bile and other stomach excrements. She quickly fought it back and only thought of the good news.

"Where is he?" she asked quickly, barely able to stop herself from asking any slower than the words spilled from her lips.

At her question, the triumphant look on Chris' face fell. He had felt so happy that he was able to get something, but then he soon realized that he was no where nearer to what she wanted—what she needed—to know.

Chris looked down and pulled the Post-It up from the pad and folded it in his hands before sliding it into his pocket. He looked up at her sadly, afraid of seeing nothing but the stale defeat that he wanted to erase.

"I'm not sure."

And immediately, her face fell. All hope that she'd momentarily had vanished and if possible, she was left paler than she had been.

"But, we will! I got the manager to agree to fax over his statements soon. They should be here tomorrow morning."

Theresa stood quickly from the corner of the desk. "Tomorrow! Why can't we have them now! I need to know where he is now! Chris, I can't wait until tomorrow. I can't!"

She was shaking in anger, frustration, fear, nervousness, doubt, guilt, shame, sadness, and helplessness. The thought of being so close to knowing where he was, and yet so incredibly far, she almost had the mind to go over to the credit company and demand to see his statements firsthand.

"T, I know. I know." Chris walked around his desk and embraced his boss quickly. "I know. And I'm sorry. She said they have to assemble all the information if we wanted to know more than just how much he's spending. In order to get the locations and the times, we have to be patient."

Theresa's tears shook her body against his. She was shocked that her tear ducts had rejuvenated enough to create the tears she had rid herself of over the past two days. As she felt the tears sliding down her face and into her neck, she stood and walked to her office quickly, almost running. She tore in and grabbed her jacket and purse, almost flying back out and down the hall to the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Chris asked, worried.

As she forced her arms into her jacket, she punched at the silver button on the wall. "Ethan's apartment."

Confused, Chris walked over to her. "He's not there, T. No one's seen him." Solemnly turning to her fully, he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder before speaking next. "He's gone, T."

Her eyes shifted over his face quickly, darting from side to side in pools of unshed tears. The look on her face was a rigid and frightful glare he'd seen many times when she was about to swallow another fashion house for her own acquisitions.

"I'll find him."

When the elevator dinged open, she stepped in and stared Chris down before the doors slid closed in front of her. Alone in the hallway, Chris stared at the silver doors and prayed that she wouldn't be met with more pain. But as he sighed and returned to his desk, he knew it was inevitable.

______

Harold pulled the limo to a slow stop in front of Ethan's apartment building and Theresa pulled her compact out of her purse, pressing powder to her face quickly, attempting to even out smudged makeup and cover the black on her cheeks. When she looked somewhat presentable, she wore her determined mask and stepped out towards the revolving doors.

Entering the lobby, she confidently walked past the desk and towards the elevators. When a guard shot up from his seat and followed after her, shouting that she wasn't allowed, she turned around quickly.

"Ma'am, I need to see some ID. Or you need to call down whoever it is you're going to visit and have them ring you up."

She'd hit another wall.

Theresa turned and walked towards him, anger flashing in her eyes. Days of not sleeping, of anguish and worry, came creeping back into her and somehow provided her with a great deal of verve.

She knew that the security policy in condo buildings like that one were going to be strict. And without Ethan there, she wasn't going to be allowed up to his apartment. Even if he wasn't there, or in the state, or moved out, she wasn't allowed up to the residence floors without a guest pass. And she couldn't get a guest pass without being someone's guest. Scenarios of bribing another resident came to mind and as she wondered about how big a check she would have to write, another thought came to her.

Her name was Crane.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked the dark security guard in the cheap uniform.

As if shocked by her question, he stared at her with questioning eyes before he motioned her to follow him back to the lobby.

"Ma'am, it doesn't matter who you know. You're not allowed up without permission. I'm sorry. If you'd like, I can—"

"I'm Theresa _Crane_," she said sharply, putting extreme emphasis on her last name. "Now I'm going upstairs." She turned and headed for the elevators again, assuming he'd leave her alone. But she was wrong.

"Lady, I don't care who you are. You're not allowed up there." His voice became harder, condescending almost.

Theresa's eyes tightened against him, her agitation that flaunting her name didn't seem to matter in the least. Suddenly, all of the emotions that had surrounded her for the past two days were dragging her down, unsettling her, making her doubt herself. When the security guard came around her and began leading her back out to the lobby, she could only think about returning to her lonely office and having to face Chris' pity.

When she thought of Chris, she had another idea.

Just as the security guard led her to the front desk, she wrenched her arm free and stared him down.

"I want to go upstairs. To Mr. Winthrop's apartment."

"He has to come down here and get you, ma'am," he said through gritted teeth.

Theresa was quiet for a long moment, watching as he resumed his seat behind the desk, the bored and tranquil mask on his face again.

"My name is Theresa Crane," she reminded him. He didn't flinch, just like before. "Of the Harmony Cranes." Still no reaction. Then Theresa smiled to herself as if knowing what she would do to his blood pressure next. "As in… _Alistair Crane_."

She let that hang in the air and looked pleased when the man's eyes snapped up to hers quickly. He looked pained, almost as if someone had punched him in the stomach and stolen all of his available air to breathe. He watched her face for any hesitation, but there was none; only determination.

"A-Alistair Crane?" he asked hesitantly. "_The_ Alistair Crane?"

A smug smile on her face, Theresa nodded slowly. "So, I'll tell you what. Tomorrow morning, I'm buying this building. And if you're nice to me, I'll let you keep your job."

Theresa didn't have to say anything else before the once-rude security guard politely escorted her up to Ethan's floor without another word. At the front door, he fidgeted with the keys in his hands, clearly opposing to breaking in to a resident's apartment.

"I'm not supposed to…," he whispered.

Theresa focused all of her pain into the same smug bully that she used downstairs and stared him down. "As of tomorrow morning, I own this floor." She tilted her head towards the door and nodded reassuringly. "Now open it."

With fidgety and shaky hands, the security guard had to try four times before he could get the key in the lock successfully before letting her in. Just as Theresa walked inside, she turned around and held out her open palm in expectation. When the guard eyed her questioningly with apology, she turned on the smug smile again.

"Give me _my_ key."

Again with shaky hands, he dropped the keys into her gloved palm and waited for another command from his new boss.

Though shorter than him by at least a foot, she eyed him down and told him he was free to get back to work. He nodded with his eyes to the floor and she watched him walk down the hallway. When she was sure that she was alone, her arm flew across her torso quickly as if in attempt to guard her from what she knew was coming.

She had to force herself to turn from the dark hallway and close the door behind her. When she did, she fell to the floor. Just taking in the living room of Ethan's apartment not only brought back the fact that he was gone, missing from her life, but also the memories that she couldn't take coupled with the pain of losing him.

The room was dark but the lights from the buildings shining through the large window in the living room were enough to illuminate shadows. It was so reminiscent of the day he'd brought her back after their kiss in the rain. It was the day she woke with so much anger, so much pain, and by the end of that night, she had never felt more complete.

Only to be torn in pieces the next morning.

But looking in the living room now, she remembered how Ethan slapped his wet wallet down on the table close to her, how he'd lingered and stared after her as she walked in. She had made a mental note of the distance he was putting between them, trying to keep both of their desires at bay.

Theresa's eyes, trying desperately to contain her newest tears, looked over to the linen closet. She stared at the closed door, remembering how he'd come to her to bring down a towel. Despite her current agony, her skin flushed with desire when she remembered the way their bodies brushed for even the smallest beat of a second. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes were so sharply blue in the dark, the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way his lips moved over hers, the way he pulled her body against his and moved them to his bedroom…

She had to mentally block herself, afraid of the pain if she didn't. For several minutes, maybe an hour, Theresa sat on the floor and stared out the large living room window, wondering where in Harmony, if in Harmony at all, Ethan was. Just staring out at the calm portion of downtown Harmony, her memory thought back to the day when the storm was pounding the glass with torrents of rain. For a split second, she could almost swear that she had seen a flash of lightening in the distance. It made her shudder as she remembered the way her skin was chilled that night.

The sawing in her abdomen returned and she fought through it, walking towards the linen closet and mentally ignoring anything physical. She pulled the knob slowly as if she were expecting Ethan to jump out at her from behind. He didn't.

She stared at the folded towels, sheets, afghans and blankets, extra pillows and she could smell the fresh scent of laundry. Her eyes scanned higher and higher until she found the top shelf. Folded neatly was the same beige towel that he'd given her that night. She reached up on her tiptoes, one arm reaching as far as it would go. Still fighting through the pain she felt, her other arm relaxed from her torso and reached as well. She was able to graze the towel with her fingertips and she frantically grasped until it fell to the floor.

Theresa picked up the towel and immediately held it to her nose, hoping to smell him around her. All she smelled was his laundry soap. She wanted to smell rain, she wanted to feel the storm from the night he had her in her arms, but all she got was dry cotton and the smell of Spring.

There was a lack of what she wanted, even in objects. She held the towel open and wrapped it around her, forcing her mind to replay the way Ethan had pressed his body to hers and kissed her with an open and hungry mouth. Her lips parted unconsciously, feeling the memory. It filled her chest with tight agony and she found herself falling to the floor again, hunched in the towel.

"Ethan… Where are you?" she asked into the dark silence.

An hour and many tears later, Theresa found enough strength to head to his bedroom. She was afraid of what she would find when she walked in, afraid that it would be much too painful.

She was right.

The creaks beneath her feet were almost screaming in warning to her when she walked to his bedroom. As she rounded through the door, she was met with the wall that he'd had her pressed against.

She remembered seeing the buttons of his shirt scatter across the carpet when she pulled it open without caring what happened to it. His tie was mangled and twisted next to her camisole. Their wet skin had been pressed together against that wall…

Theresa had to force herself to walk past the memories and fully into his bedroom. Yet, she knew that the bed would be her undoing. So she walked without looking at it and to the other end of his room until she met the door to his walk-in closet. The door had been left open and she fumbled around in the dark on the wall to find the light switch. She had never been in his closet before and wasn't sure what she would find, but when the light finally came on, it wasn't what she had in mind.

Empty hangers and open drawers.

As she moved past the empty hooks and open drawers, she realized that his clothes were gone. On the poles where he hung his clothes were empty hangers that moved slightly when she walked by. The few metal hangers where he'd kept his trousers were clinking together as her fingertips grazed them. Above the poles was a long shelf that extended the length of the whole closet. For a brief second, she found herself wondering just what he'd keep up there. At the far corner, she got her answer. There were three suitcases left, really big ones she was sure were meant for his overseas trips that lasted months at a time. But regular sized suitcases were missing.

He was gone.

Theresa stopped in the middle of the closet and took note of the empty hangers and empty, open drawers, wondering just how quickly he had left, hating herself. Even the table that appeared to be for sunglasses and watches was empty. Scanning the room again, something caught her eye in the far left corner of the room. She walked to it with a cautious step. Theresa hesitantly picked up the small white ball and examined it. Ethan had left a shirt behind, probably rushing so fast that he didn't even notice it there. Immediately, she brought it to her nose.

Ethan.

His shirt was soaked in his essence, his cologne, his natural smell mixed with laundry soap and the scent that lingered in the air around him. She sucked in large gulps of air, smelling and breathing him in. She could almost taste him.

In that instant she remembered the taste of his skin when she licked his shoulder as he moved above her. He tasted like a primal musk, salty and sweet and strong all at the same time. The remnants of his cologne clung to the fibers of the shirt and for a moment, she thought that he was there with her, embracing her and strong in her arms.

But he was gone.

She wanted to fall to the floor again. She wanted to wrap herself in his shirt and crumble into the abyss of her memories. She wanted to cry until her body ran dry, until she was unable to feel or think or remember. As her knees were beginning to weaken to her body's desire, she had to force herself to continue walking, to not fall to the floor again, to not fall into the dark pit of desire that screamed for her own end.

Theresa didn't turn the light off from Ethan's closet when she stepped back into his bedroom. And without thinking, without pulling from her strength reservoir deep within her, she found herself vis-à-vis with Ethan's bed. The sheets, the pillows, the blankets, all the same. And yet so different at the same time.

"Oh god…," she whispered to herself as the emptiness continued to pelt her in the darkness.

The bed was where he held her. Where he moaned in her mouth. Where he licked her skin. Where he kissed her. Where their bodies pressed together. Where he whispered in her ear. Where she woke up and looked at him. Where he broke her.

That morning after came into her mind and she remembered falling to the bed as he walked out of the bedroom, leaving her in tears and screams. She remembered feeling like she didn't know how to go on.

Now she knew that the pain of that moment was nothing compared to the torture she was currently experiencing.

Her fingers twitched as she ached to reach across her torso to press the pain back. But she needed it. She wanted the pain to remind her of what she had done. Without the pain, Ethan was gone and he was nothing. At least with the pain, she had a constant reminder of him.

The bed wasn't made, the corner of the blankets pulled to the center of the bed that had been slept in not too long ago. Theresa's fingers clutched the shirt against her chest even tighter as she took a few steps towards the bed. It looked bigger than the last time she had seen it, empty.

Her feet moved unconsciously. Her toes didn't react to each step and she didn't even realize that her legs had moved until she found herself right in front of the bed. She turned her body slightly and sat on the edge, a soft creek echoing loudly in the dark silence. The glow from the closet cast a ghostly figure across the carpet and Theresa clutched at the white shirt even tighter.

Looking down at the pillow, she remembered what it looked like to watch him sleep next to her. His arm had been thrown across her middle protectively, yet gently. His lips were parted ever so slightly as air passed between them. His nose let out an occasional soft snore that she found surprisingly endearing and she wasn't sure why. His eyelids fluttered when he dreamed and she had wanted to kiss them, taste his dreams. But when his arm had pulled her closer gently, she smiled to herself when she figured that he might have been dreaming of her.

But now his pillow was empty, still bearing the indention of his head from the last time he had slept against it, probably days ago now. Reacting on instinct again, still not deciding for herself, she leaned down face first into the pillow and inhaled as deeply as she could. His scent was even stronger in the pillow.

Every night, his hair had rested against it. Every night, the pillowcase would caress his cheek. Every night, he would breathe his air into the cotton and soak it with his life essence. The pillow held a bigger part of him than the shirt did, yet she couldn't find it in herself to part with it.

She laid with her face in the pillow until she was sure she would pass out from lack of oxygen. His smell was deliciously surrounding her and she turned her head with a content sigh when she pulled the shirt up to her nose again. His cologne, his laundry soap, his smell… It was almost like he was there with her. Almost.

Theresa looked up at the nightstand and noticed the ring of dried condensation on the wood. She smiled to herself inwardly when she remembered how he needed to sleep with a glass of water next to him every night. She stared at the ring, wanting to reach out and trace it with her fingertip. But she was too wrapped in Ethan's scent, in his aura, to move away from it. But there was something off about the nightstand. It seemed… wrong.

She stared at the nightstand, wondering what felt so off about it. Several minutes passed before she realized what it was. The picture was missing.

The picture taken on her wedding day had been the beginning and the end of so many things. The end of her life with Ethan, the beginning of her life with Fox. The end of what she'd always wanted, the beginning of living without her heart's true beat. The end of her elation the day she and Ethan gave in to each other, the beginning of pain that was only now beginning to mount.

The day after the storm, she woke up to see Ethan staring at the picture with a strange emotion in his eyes. It was stronger than hatred and purer than guilt. It wasn't love or longing or desire or jealousy… it was something that resembled sorrow. It was if Ethan was sorry for every single one of them in that picture. And he proved it when he pulled her to him in the last kiss, apologizing and giving her away at the same time. He couldn't do that to his brother, he couldn't do that to her, he couldn't do that to himself. But yet, even after all that time apart, he'd kept the picture to remind himself of everything.

And the picture was gone.

That was when Theresa realized that the picture wasn't missing. Instead, Ethan had taken it. And he took it to continue to remind himself of the pain that all three of them would continue to live in if the triangle never broke. He took it to remind himself that Theresa was married to his brother. He took it to remind himself of the love that was shared on the day of the wedding. He took it to remember her.

Theresa wanted to smile as she imagined Ethan staring at the picture and tracing his fingertips over her face, silently telling her that he loved her more than anything else. But then she also focused on another fact of the picture being taken, a darker one: If Ethan had taken the picture, it could only mean that he wouldn't be returning any time soon. He needed that picture as a reminder, just as he had it for the two years they were kept apart. And he still had it with him.

Focusing on the fact that Ethan was not only gone, but that he had no obvious intention of returning, pain scorched into her soul. She clutched the shirt up to her face again, breathing him in and pushing her face into the pillow. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell, and beg him to come back to her. But she couldn't. She was alone in the dark room with the only light coming from his deserted closet. Theresa nuzzled into the pillow further, her tears soaking through, and she cried herself to sleep in Ethan's bed.

______

Chris walked out of the elevator and was surprised that the floor was still dark as he had left it the previous night. The light in Theresa's office was off, but then he quickly figured that she was still sleeping. Though she wasn't one to sleep in, or at all lately. With that in mind, he turned the lights on for the floor and headed to her office.

He rapped his knuckle against the door softly, whispering her name as if she could hear from the other side of the door, even if she were awake. He heard nothing back and knocked again, waiting with his ear close to the wooden door. Still nothing. A part of Chris, the part that had been trained to follow the orders of his bosses, was urging him strongly not to enter her office without permission.

But Theresa wasn't merely his boss. She was his friend and he hated knowing how much pain she was in. Without another thought, he opened the door, his training be damned.

Her office was dark. The pillows and afghans from the couch had been thrown on the floor in disarray, as they had the previous morning. With the rising sun shining through the large windows behind her desk, he could see the smudge marks her handprints had left on the glass. Papers thrown from her desk were scattered all over the floor around her desk. But no Theresa.

Chris reached over and found the switch on the wall next to him. With added light, he scanned the room carefully for Theresa, as if she could be hiding in a dark corner like a child. She wasn't there. The room looked just like he had left it after Theresa hurried out the day before.

Frightened that she hadn't returned, Chris panicked at the thought that she might be outside sleeping in an alley. As ironic as the thought for one of the wealthiest people on the planet to be sleeping in a dumpster was, Chris was profoundly worried. He knew that she wouldn't have returned to the Crane Mansion, and as far as he knew, she and Whitney had not been in contact. She had mentioned that she was going to Ethan's apartment, but surely, if she had found Ethan, she would have contacted him.

Chris left her office and closed the door behind him, taking notice that she was still his boss and perhaps crossing into her boundaries without permission was still wrong. The floor was still quiet, but he went to his desk and stared at his phone. No blinking red lights to let him know that a message waited for him, no note scribbled on a Post-It.

Frustrated, Chris took a seat in his chair and spun around, closing his eyes and breathing deep. While Theresa's demise was not a part of his life at all, it was still affecting him. Going to work for two days straight to see his boss, once lively and passionate about her work, staring out the window without moving, without feeling, without being able to even cry, it was beginning to take its toll. Watching her break apart into another piece by the minute was eating away at him as if he were experiencing her pain right along with her.

He sighed, stretching his palms down his face and pulling his eyes open further. When he was able to focus, he noticed that a light was blinking on his printer. As he scooted his rolling chair closer, he saw that a message on the screen informed him that he had a waiting fax.

In that moment, Chris's mind flashed quickly as he remembered that an incoming fax to help Theresa locate Ethan was waiting for him to push a button. He internally yelled at himself for not remembering sooner and hastily pressed the blinking green button and filled the empty tray with more paper.

The printer made the annoyingly loud modem sound that screeched through the empty and silent office floor. But Chris didn't care and reached for his phone quickly. He speed dialed Theresa and was sorely disappointed when it went straight to her voicemail. Jumping like a child in his seat, he quickly began:

"T, it's here! The fax is coming in now! I don't know where you are… and I'm getting worried. So please call me when you get this. I'll be here so we can make some calls and find… him… for you. Please… be careful. And call me. Bye."

Chris waited with hungry eyes as the papers started to pile up in the collecting tray. Ethan's credit activity for the past month certainly surprised him. With each page that laid flat in the tray once it finished printing, Chris stared at the dates hoping the next paper would give him something close enough to work with.

That was when he heard the elevator open at the far end of the hallway.

Chris bounded up from his seat immediately with an excited smile on his face, wondering how Theresa could have received his message so fast when he had put the phone back in its cradle not five minutes ago. But perhaps she had been on her way back to the office when he called. A piece of him, in the split second that it took to stand up, remembered well that work was her dose for dealing with depression. But even work wouldn't disguise the pain of losing Ethan.

A smile split his lips when he realized that he might be able to end the dark depression that was looming over her. Maybe, just maybe, she would be smiling in just a few short minutes when the fax was done printing.

As he looked to the silver doors sliding open, he was even more surprised to find Fox stepping out quickly and moving towards him as if on a mission. He wore a suit, like he always did. His hands were balled in fists at his sides, his tie looked a bit crooked as if he didn't have anyone around to tell him and fix it for him, and there appeared to be a slight limp in his left leg as if he'd twisted his ankle and was trying to keep weight off of it.

Realizing quickly that Fox's presence was not good to mix with the incoming fax, Chris spun around quickly and pressed the power button on the printer, hoping it wasn't too suspicious to make Fox ask questions.

When Fox approached close to the desk, Chris looked up and smiled, mentally debating on whether or not he should bow for the Prince of Harmony. He quickly decided that it might anger him, and he looked angry enough.

"Mr. Crane, good mor—"

"Where is she?" The tone in his voice was a cross between angry, desperate, and broken.

Chris suddenly felt like a foot soldier that had been captured and was being asked to betray his commander. "I…," Chris stuttered.

"Is she here?" Fox asked loudly, his eyes turning to her closed office door.

Chris looked to the door after Fox, silently begging himself to come up with more confidence and stand up straight like a man! He opened his mouth to give him an answer, but then snapped it shut quickly when he realized that he had no answer to give him. He could most certainly tell Fox where Theresa _wasn't_, but as for her true whereabouts, he had absolutely no idea.

"Well?" Fox asked again, harder in his tone this time. He turned to her office door again, eyeing it as if willing it open with telekinesis.

"She's not here, sir," Chris responded meekly.

Fox had always intimidated him, but now, with the look of sheer anger and hatred in his eyes, the feeling of inferiority had been multiplied tenfold.

Fox didn't say anything in response when he crossed the path from Chris' desk to Theresa's office and let himself in without knocking, without permission, and without the gentlemanly nature he supposedly had.

The door opened with a slight creak and Chris immediately jumped up and followed him in. Fox stopped as soon as he stepped into the office. He noted the thrown pillows scattered on the floor in the middle of the office, the two afghans thrown over the sofa as if they'd been discarded in haste, the stacks of papers on the coffee table and the strewn stacks scattered on the floor around her desk. He stared at the mess, confused and bewildered as to why she'd allow her office to get into such disarray.

Fox took in the rest of the office and froze. The fountain pens left out of their wells, drying up, the picture frames face down on her desk, even the used tissues on the floor were enough to startle him. But what really made him stop were the fingerprints on the glass. The white hand prints smudged on the window behind her desk looked as if she had pressed herself to the glass and slid across and down until the oil from her skin was smeared in front of her.

"Get out," Fox whispered behind him to Chris.

"But she—," he began trying.

Fox's voice did not get any louder or sharper. "Get out."

Without another word, Chris backed out of the office and closed the door behind him.

Fox stood in the center of the office and stared around. Just looking at the space, he knew there was something wrong; Theresa was meticulous about keeping things in their place. And the handprints on the windows just sent a sharp pain into his chest. He could tell the mountain of used tissues were stained black with mascara and eyeliner that had no doubt left her eyes in a natural and red state.

Finally moving, Fox walked over to the glass and put his hand over the smudges and tried to imagine what she could have been doing and seeing at the exact same position. His hand was larger than the print against the glass and his heart squeezed at the memory of her hand in his.

Memories of Theresa assaulted him then. The first time he found the courage to hold her hand, the first time he kissed her, the first time they made love, the first time she stayed the night with him, when she agreed to marry him, when they smiled at each other in their honeymoon bed…

And it hurt. His chest ached in pain as the memories became sweeter and more precious to him. But the sweet memories weren't as painful as the more recent ones.

Fox hated himself. More. He _loathed_ himself. If he'd had the courage, he would have put a pistol to his head and ended the misery that he caused everyone. It had been his decision to put temptation in front of Theresa's face. He was the evil being that put that apple tree in front of a hungry and curious woman. Who was he to expect her to be stronger than the strongest temptation? That lunch at Dimension was a folly, a trickery. And he hated himself for causing it.

After two years, he knew there was an emptiness in her eyes and worse than that, he knew why it was there. Ethan was the emptiness that he saw staring at him everyday. And he needed to do something about it.

More than anything, Fox knew that he didn't have the strength to leave her himself. He loved her far too much, he adored her every breath. And he couldn't tear himself from her life no matter how much his head was telling him to. So he gave her an escape and laid it out on a silver platter, even with garnishes. The day he told her about her lunch at Dimension, he should have asked her if she preferred orange or lemon slices.

But she didn't take her way out. She came back to him the next day. The emptiness in her eyes was worse and he hated himself even more. The emptiness was replaced with nothing but despair. At least before it looked as if she had learned to accept the ways of her life. But after that day, he swore that he could see her soul break.

But he was a selfish man and a part of him was elated that she had returned to him. He gave her the chance to be with Ethan, but she never took it. And for the first time since she married him, he thought that she had really loved him more than Ethan.

Now he knew he was a fool.

Ethan had never left her heart, and he never would.

For his cowardice, for his love, he sent his wife into the arms of another man and ruined all of their lives. But it still didn't matter. The horse still had to drink the water of its own accord.

Tears threatened at the back of his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose to keep them at bay. His anger was starting to boil up towards the surface. Fox breathed deep to keep the building emotions under control.

Finally, minutes later when he was able to, he opened his eyes and looked at the smudged window again. He hated seeing the obviously-painful hand marks that Theresa had made in what appeared to be agony. As his head hung low in the despair she must have felt, he noticed a crumpled and wrinkled paper at his feet. Curious, Fox picked it up and wondered what she would have wanted to read lately.

The paper made a light crinkling noise as he opened it and began to read. His eyes skimmed over the handwriting, a familiarity hitting him. He glanced at the bottom and found Ethan's name scrawled in his penmanship. His chest tightened. Against all his internal warnings, he started reading. With each word, something inside of him fell away and built back all at the same time.

Though he didn't know it, he read the letter over and over again just like Theresa did. But for different reasons, the pain built in his chest. To read of Ethan's love for his wife, for the obvious pain it must have caused him to write those words, Fox hated himself even more. As much as he hated Ethan, and Theresa as well, he also hated himself for ever thinking that he could take a place in her heart. Or worse—replace him as he so wished.

"God, I'm a fool," he whispered to himself, his breath coloring the window in cloudy white.

Even though he felt anger for himself mixed with pity for his own stupidity, he was also supremely angry with Ethan and it was building even stronger. It was obvious that the letter, that also had smudges of residue mascara on it, was the cause of the marks on the window, of the thrown papers, the strewn pillows and blankets, the left-open fountain pens. But something else caught his attention.

_You know what you want now…_

What did that mean, he asked himself. What was he referring to? Could she have…?

Fox didn't believe it.

There was only one way that Ethan would have given her up like that—if she had chosen someone else. And she had.

"No…," Fox whispered quickly. "Theresa…"

It was at that moment that he realized just why she had gone back to the mansion the day after he'd left her in the hospital—the day after he'd assaulted Whitney in the worst possible way. She was going back to him. She had chosen to be with him over Ethan. After years of pain, despite what had transpired recently, Theresa had finally decided to leave Ethan behind.

And he ruined it.

Though he hadn't meant to cheat on Theresa, though he had never meant or ever thought to betray their marriage, for her to find him in not only the arms of another woman, but also her best friend, he couldn't blame her for the way she ran away from him without giving him the chance to explain. He deserved her leaving him, he knew that. She was right.

Ethan was a man she had loved ever since she could remember. He was a part of her, a piece of her heart forever. And when Fox married her, he decided to marry all of her. He wanted her love, her pain, her past, her future, her laughter, her smile, her tears, her sadness, everything. And Ethan was a part of that. He'd known that all along and even before he knelt before her with a ring, he knew that he would always be competing with Ethan's memory.

But Whitney wasn't a part of his past. Worse, she was his wife's best friend. He couldn't blame Theresa for thinking the way she did. And angry tears fell from his eyes as his loathing grew for only himself.

Fox had lost his wife because of his own actions. Because he was stupid and drunk and attacked an innocent woman. He had lost his friend because of the same stupidity. He had nothing, and he could only blame himself for treating Theresa like a lab monkey and watching idly by while she decided whether or not to grab the apple slice.

Furious with himself, for his whole situation, he fisted his had around the letter and angry tears flooded his eyes. Without another breath, he punched his fist into the window before him and ignored the pain that flooded through his knuckles and up into his arm. He winced but fought the urge to scream. Instead, he turned around, shaking his fist in the air to the alleviate some of the pain, and he kicked the chair with the tip of his shoe. When the cradle spun, he kicked it again with the full force of his foot. That sent him backward into the glass.

He screamed when the impact of pain rushed into his spinal column and registered in his brain. All of a sudden, he couldn't put pressure on his left leg at all and leaned against the desk with all his weight. The pain was searing into his bone and as he tried to step towards the door, he collapsed. Falling on his leg now, he screamed again, this time even louder than before.

Chris tore the door open and his eyes widened when he saw Fox on the floor attempting to crawl towards him. But when he lifted his left leg to put his knee down, his leg fell back down and he screamed yet again.

"Mr. Crane! Are you alright?"

Chris soon realized the stupidity of his question and rushed to the wriggling man's side. He wasn't sure what to do, what to grab, what to hold, what to say. He knelt next to the most powerful man in Harmony and waved his arms in the air in confusion.

"Do you—can you—do I—what can—I—" Chris stuttered in his overwhelming distress.

Fox rolled onto his stomach fully and tried his best to pull himself up on his good leg. He failed and crashed back on the carpet with a pained cry.

"Call an ambulance," Fox said through clenched teeth as he pulled his knee up to his chest and cradled his leg in his hands. "Hurry."

Without another word, Chris rushed to the phone on Theresa's desk and dialed quickly, waiting for the woman to stop asking him questions. When he explained the situation and his location, he trailed off when he noticed the small white ball gripped tight in Fox's fist. It was the same paper that Theresa had balled in her hand only a day before. Ethan's letter…

Finally answering all the operator's questions, Chris put the phone back down and stared at the squirming man in pain on the floor with one thought in his brain: Ethan's words had caused mass destruction.

______

Theresa stretched with her eyes still closed, her breathing becoming less rhythmic when she opened her eyes and drank in her surroundings. The ceiling looked familiar, the walls also a color she knew well. When her mind finally put the pieces together, when she realized that she was in Ethan's apartment, she smiled to herself. The contentment that raced through her soothed her into a peaceful sigh. She turned her head to the side expecting to find Ethan next to her. But he wasn't there.

Theresa checked the other side as well, but he was still not there. Looking back up to the ceiling, Theresa remembered everything and it came flooding into her neurons with a new and powerful wave of pain. Still clutched tightly in her fingers was the white shirt she'd found on the floor of his closet. Having been pressed to her face all night, she noticed a few smudges of mascara staining the once-clean shirt. But it still smelled like him, she realized after she brought it close to her nose.

What time it was, Theresa had no idea. She couldn't even recall when she'd fallen asleep the night before. All she knew was that eventually, the pain had been too great to take and she had simply willed herself an escape from it all. And sleep took her sometime after that. Exhausted after not having slept for two days, her mind spent from reeling in emotional torrents, it wasn't hard for her to sleep. Still too exhausted, she didn't dream. But she was thankful for that because it would surely have been of Ethan.

Ethan…

Theresa finally managed the strength to sit up and as she stared around the room, the finality of Ethan's disappearance hit her harder now that the sun was shining. The light in the closet only made it seem more empty than she knew it to be. All his personal effects had been removed from is dresser and his nightstands. Even that picture.

Her eyes hurt from crying so much. They burned, really. As if saltwater had been poured into her pupils, her eyes pulsated with a fire that she didn't understand, nor could she find the will to care. The pain was nothing but a reminder that she had cried. Crying was a reminder that Ethan was gone. Ethan gone was a reminder that she was alone.

After about another hour of staring at the familiar gray ceiling, Theresa finally was able to pull herself up from the bed. She turned off the light in the closet and carried the shirt against her chest, her other hand grasping tightly against her stomach as she walked out into the living room.

The daylight made everything seem so much more empty. Last night, she hadn't noticed how… left behind everything looked. An afghan was thrown over the arm of the sofa and a coaster remained on the coffee table. It hurt looking at them as if he were about to waltz out of the bathroom door and set a glass on the table, or cover himself in the afghan. He had been in such a hurry that he only grabbed his clothes and left.

Left her.

Theresa wanted to cry, but her eyes were flaming in pleading with her not to start again. Surely anymore saltwater in her eyes would damage her vision. Clutching the shirt, she continued walking through to the kitchen. There were still dishes in the sink that he'd left unwashed, untouched and forgotten. She briefly wondered what he would do with his furniture. Would he send someone to retrieve it and send it all to his new address? Or would he simply leave it there for the next tenant?

When she thought about tenants in the building, Theresa quickly remembered her promise to buy the building. Though it was an afterthought after everything she'd been through, in order to maintain access to Ethan's apartment, she needed to be in charge of the building.

She sighed heavily as she thought to distract herself from what was around her. Her coat was still on the floor next to the front door where she'd dropped it. Theresa picked it up and reached into her pocket to retrieve her cell phone. She cleared her throat once, twice, three times, four times, and finally a total of eight times before she was certain that the lump was pushed down far enough to be disguised for a few short moments during her phone call.

When she flipped it open, she realized that it had been turned off. So lost and confused in the drama her life had become in the past few hours, she hadn't realized that she'd turned her phone off. After she pressed the power button and waited for it to turn back on, she was bombarded with missed calls, voicemail alerts, and text messages. Chris had called her several times and left her two voicemails. Whitney had called but left no message. And Fox had texted her, called her six times, and left her four voicemails.

Pain flooded her chest as she imagined a distraught Fox on the phone pleading for her to give him a chance to explain what she'd seen in her very own bedroom. But she suppressed that feeling as she listened to Chris' latest voicemail. As she listened, her mind wandered into the distance of the Harmony skyline beyond the window in the living room. She stared and stared and stared and when she finally got to the end of the message, she had to replay it because she'd heard none of it. This time paying attention, she froze.

There was a fax waiting for her in her office that would tell her where Ethan was. Stunned, Theresa listened over and over again and couldn't believe the hope building in her own chest. Chris sounded excited. She finally found him! Perhaps by nightfall she'd be in his arms once again.

"Thank you, god!" she sighed quickly, tears leaking onto her cheeks and her eyes burning yet again.

Theresa didn't bother listening to any of the other messages before she slapped her phone shut and hastily grabbed her coat. She didn't bother putting it on as she flew through the apartment and into the elevator in the hallway. All thoughts of buying the building, of pain, of crying, of anguish, of drama, of Fox, of Whitney, everything, had been wiped from her mind. The only thing she could think about, the only thing that mattered now was getting to Ethan.

The security guards at the front desk looked down as she ran past them, almost afraid to look at her. She said nothing and tore through the revolving doors, relieved to see that her limo was still parked in front. For a brief second, she was flooded with guilt when she realized that she had never given Harold a time that she would leave, nor did she allow him to leave and return for her. But that passed quickly when she pulled the back door open quickly and threw herself into the limo.

"Mrs. Crane!" Harold exclaimed as he woke with a snore.

He'd slept in the limo with his head against the window, bless his heart. No doubt uncomfortable and sore from his position, Theresa decided to give him a week off with pay and demand that he visit her favorite masseuse. After she got to Ethan, of course.

She couldn't help but smile as she instructed her driver to head back to Crane Tower. Harold eyed her curiously through his rearview mirror but made no comment out of the ordinary. Instead he began driving with a smile on his lips, relieved to see her doing something other than crying.

Theresa was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. Her mind was racing with fantasies of finding Ethan and running into his arms, kissing him and making him believe that she could never want any other man but him for as long as she lived. They would make love for hours on the floor next to a fireplace. Or in the backseat of his Lexus. Or against the brick wall in an alley. It didn't matter if they would finally be together.

Suddenly her brain came to a crashing halt.

Cruising down the streets of downtown Harmony, Theresa caught view of a familiar woman leaving a lingerie boutique. Something in Theresa's gut was screaming when she saw her. Everything about her was so reminiscent of Gwen, it was scary.

The over-sized sunglasses weren't enough to hide the confident aura and the blonde hair that was so perfectly coiffed. Mariel Jonsten scampered up the street with La Perla bags hanging from her fingertips. As the limo passed her, Theresa turned her head to keep her eyes locked on the woman walking away from her now. Mariel looked content, confident, smug. A little too smug. There was something wrong and for whatever reason, Theresa felt sick inside.

"Stop!" she screamed in the back seat.

Harold stopped the limo with an abrupt squeal of the tires against the asphalt.

"Miss Theresa?" he asked, peering into his rearview mirror to see her face.

Theresa hadn't moved her eyes from the blonde woman that was getting farther and farther away from her, the lingerie bags still swinging in her hands.

"Back. La Perla, please," Theresa whispered.

Though confused, Harold did as he was told and drove the two blocks backward quickly, wondering just why Theresa had had a sudden craving for overly-priced lace and satin. Harold watched his mistress intently through the mirror, but he was surprised when she didn't move. She stared as close as she could against the window, her nose pressed against the glass as she turned her head.

"Miss Theresa?"

Theresa didn't respond and sprinted out of the limo, slamming the door behind her. Her Christian Louboutin shoes clapped against the sidewalk and Theresa almost had the mind to stop and throw them away before she continued her pursuit. But Mariel had entered a building and for fear of losing her, Theresa went as fast as she could in her heels.

A block ahead of her, Mariel passed through a glass door and Theresa focused her eyes on that spot. Though luxurious and high in quality, Christian didn't take running into account when he designed his shoes. Her feet were slipping inside of her now stretched and ruined soles and she almost felt flat on her face a few times as she walked-ran clumsily towards the glass door that Mariel had entered.

Finally, her shoes sliding off of their own accord, Theresa flew inside the door and ran into the main desk in the lobby, her ribs aching with the impact.

"Mariel Jonsten, please?" Theresa panted.

The guard, an older woman, eyed her suspiciously. Theresa's lack of makeup, the smudges all over her face, her unkempt hair, her cracked eyes, no doubt all signs of a crazy woman.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you, ma'am."

Theresa fought to control her breathing, her feet sticky against the marble floor. She looked at the roster behind the desk and wondered if that might give her a clue where to find the detestable blonde woman. But only floor company names were listed. All floors above eleven were residential and weren't listed.

"Please, what floor is she on?" Theresa asked, this time her breathing more in control.

The older woman looked down at a clipboard that sat in front of her. She lifted the pages, scanning from left to right before she looked back up to Theresa.

"Is she expecting you, ma'am?"

Angry, tired, exhausted, annoyed, desperate, fearful, overwhelmed, Theresa hadn't even considered running into the same wall that she had at Ethan's apartment. Yes, luxury condos were supposed to have strong security to protect their rich patrons. But it was ridiculous to need an appointment to visit someone she knew.

Theresa finally let her breath calm fully before she began speaking. And when she did, she was not Theresa, the woman that had known nothing but pain for days. She was Theresa Crane, co-ruler of Harmony and mistress of the Crane Empire.

"Um, Ms….," Theresa began, leaning down on the desk to see the woman's nametag, "Reiter, I understand this is your job, and it's a fine one to be sure. But I really need to get up to see Mariel. Please don't make me make any phone calls."

Ms. Reiter stared at Theresa without flinching. "Ma'am, call whoever you need to if you want to get upstairs."

Theresa had to physically fight her mounting frustration as she dug into her coat pocket with a huff and produced her cell phone. Not taking her eyes from Ms. Reiter, she flipped it open and dialed the familiar number.

"Larry, hi, how are you? Theresa Crane, here." Theresa didn't even bother to gauge Ms. Reiter's reaction and instead kept talking. "Listen, I've decided to make a few investments. Right now, I'm standing on the corner of Fulton and Congressional. The tall gray building across the street from the café… yes, that's the one." She smiled and listened to his response. "No, actually, the reason I mention it is because… I want to buy it." Again she listened, a smile still on her face. "I don't care, Larry. Jonsten's lawyer left town. Get this building for me by the end of the day, got it? No matter what it costs, just get it." Theresa looked down at Ms. Reiter's gaping expression as she listened to the response. "Great, Larry. You were always my favorite attorney. Thank you."

With that, Theresa smiled as she closed her phone and looked down to the guard.

"Now, which floor is Mariel Jonsten on?"

When Theresa was in the elevator, she cringed at having to use the influence of her last name. She hated seeing the fear in people's eyes when she heard the word _Crane_. By tomorrow morning, she would own two more apartment buildings just so she would have the ability to go up a few floors. But it all paled in comparison if she could only find out where Ethan was. She'd pay her entire fortune for that information.

The twentieth floor only had one door, and it was Mariel's. As one of the richest residents in all of Harmony, she owned not only one apartment that took up an entire floor, but floors twenty through twenty-four were hers, all part of her luxurious condo.

Theresa suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious for having thrown her shoes on the lobby floor, not caring to retrieve them. Though she and Mariel had never met face to face, they certainly knew of each other and what was worse, she had a feeling that Mariel hated being second in the race of richest woman in Harmony and despised her competition greatly. Theresa couldn't even remember the last time she'd looked in a mirror and cared what she saw reflected. Staring at the window in her office, she'd seen herself, but only barely.

But it didn't even matter anymore. If Mariel got a chance to see her looking like a hobo and she in turn was able to find Ethan, it would be worth it.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Theresa knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

Theresa waited and waited and still the door remained closed in her face. She cleared her throat and knocked again. From the other side of the door, it sounded like something fell to the floor and broke upon the impact. Theresa pressed her ear close to the door to listen for any other surprising sounds. Mariel's voice was muffled through the wood door and it sounded as if she were spewing strict instructions. Worried, Theresa knocked again, harder this time.

A muffled laugh echoed through the large apartment and met Theresa's ear that was pressed against the door. Then she could make out the creak of footsteps and backed away from the door minutely just in time as it opened.

Mariel was looking over her shoulder behind her as she pulled the door open. For a millisecond, an embarrassed smile was etched over her surgically-enhanced features. But when her eyes focused on her guest it faded quickly. The blonde woman wore a smug smile as she stood in the doorway, but it soon melted into confusion and surprise when she recognized the broken woman before her.

Pulling her shirt around her, Mariel crossed her arms to hide herself. At least a little bit.

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Crane… Hello, Theresa." Her whisper was laced with venom, almost telling Theresa in her tone that she as not welcome.

For a brief instant, Theresa considered retracting her steps and pretending like she had never stepped into the building at all. She had clearly interrupted a woman who hated her and she was sure, despite the pull she felt in her chest, that she would only be running into yet another wall of Ethan's whereabouts. That was when Theresa took in Mariel's appearance.

Her coat had been taken off, thrown on the floor inside the apartment no doubt, the bags she'd carried thrown aside, her pants discarded, her white blouse opened around her chest. Theresa noticed the matching sapphire bra and panties that were no doubt just taken from the La Perla bags she'd just brought up. Theresa quickly thought it odd for Mariel be modeling underwear for herself minutes after purchasing them.

Theresa had to push back any insecurity she felt in the glamorous blonde's presence and went straight to business. "Mariel, I'm looking for Ethan. Have you seen him? Do you know where he is?"

Ignoring the question, Mariel's eyes moved up and down Theresa's body, scanning and evaluating her appearance.

"Well, Theresa… fall on hard times, have we?"

Theresa didn't respond and fought through her sudden flash of insecurity by biting hard on her jaw and strengthening the look in her eyes.

"You know, I must say, the uh, just rolled-out-of-bed look," Mariel appraised as she waved her hand at her guest, "it's fantastic. You should definitely send your ideas over to Anna Wintour. And the grease at the roots," she paused to wink one eye and gesture a thumbs-up, "look out, Milan!"

The strength reserves that Theresa wasn't sure she had, the very ones she'd just drawn from, were now officially empty. Her shoulders stayed squared and she mentally fought with herself to not recoil like a coward. Instead, she eyed down her blonde nemesis and traced a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you, Mar. For those of us that haven't had a new face carved on, we can only rely on fashion."

Mariel's dark brown eyes seemed to fade into a deep black at the mention her surgery. Her doctors had promised her that no one would be able to tell.

"Where's Ethan?" Theresa tried again, the desperation in her voice was not lost.

The smug look on Mariel's face slid off as her upper lip curled into a slight scowl. Mariel's eyes brightened, however, almost as if toying with her guest in silence.

"You know, the last time I checked, Theresa, you are still married to Foxworth. You are Mrs. Crane, loving wife. Maybe you should resume that role, don't you think?"

Her eyes were menacing and probing into Theresa's with anger.

"Please," Theresa said, tears falling and her throat thick with a sad lump. "If you know where I can find him, or if you can reach him, please just tell me." More silence. "At least, can you just ask him to call me? I mean… Please. I'm begging you."

Mariel ran a hand with a red-polished manicure through her thick blonde hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, this time not as worried about covering herself. The smile she wore was too sweet, even for her. Her lips parted minutely and Theresa waited as she hoped that the vulgar woman would give her the information she'd been asking for. Instead, Mariel puckered her lips and pushed them out, blowing a kiss at Theresa as she closed the door in her face.

Theresa felt like there was something wrong. Mariel was the key and Theresa knew it. But there was also something off about her. Mariel was a bitch, yes, but Theresa had never done anything to warrant such hostility. There was only one thing that could possibly cause such a reaction. Just as she approached the elevator and it dinged open, she rushed back to Mariel's door and pounded furiously.

"Mariel! Please! Open the door! Mariel! I'm not leaving until—"

The door opened and a half-dressed and disheveled Mariel looked back at her angrily.

"Theresa, darling, Crane or not, I own this building and I will have you thrown out. Leave. Now."

"Just tell me where he is!"

"You have no right to know. He obviously doesn't want to be found. Leave."

Mariel's hand closed around the door and pushed as she was about to close the it again. Theresa wedged her foot in the door way quickly, wincing when her skin pinched and was most likely scraped in a bloody hole in the arch of her foot.

Despite her trying day, despite her emotional torment she'd had to deal with as of late, Theresa somehow summoned enough energy to pull herself together. "Don't make me call your ex-husband, Mariel. He's still richer than you are. And so am I."

Mariel's smugness faded quickly. She knew that Theresa was telling the truth. Though she prided herself with her recent acquisition of riches, her ex-husband was still much richer than she was and could command about as much respect as Alistair Crane was able to.

In her sudden confusion, Mariel looked over her shoulder quickly before focusing on Theresa again.

"If you want to drag Luke into this, Theresa, by all means. I'd love nothing more than to take his ass back to court." She smiled, her teeth too white. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

The door was in Theresa's face faster than the time before. She truly had run into another wall—door. But she couldn't get over the feeling in her gut that was whispering to her. Mariel was something… She didn't deny knowing where Ethan was, only wouldn't give her any information. Somehow still able to stand despite her day, Theresa focused on the thought of hiring a private investigator to follow the blonde bitch around.

Then, shocking her with its abruptness, her heart spun.

She knew that feeling.

Theresa closed her eyes and listened intently. Her energy was waning, her muscles weak, her feet clammy against the marble floor, her mind dizzy and spent, her eyes still burning, but somehow, she felt a flood of relief wash over her.

Ethan…

Summoning all energy she could possibly have, Theresa began pounding on the door again until her wrist began to pulse in pain, and even then she continued. Though she didn't say or yell anything as she pounded, she annoyingly and relentlessly kept her knocking and allowed Mariel to realize that she wasn't going anywhere.

Minutes later, her wrist twitching in pain, the door swung open angrily. Theresa expected to have to look into the brown-black eyes of Mariel Jonsten and have to duck from an incoming slap or even have to fight off threats to be escorted out by security. But she wasn't expecting to be met with what she found in the doorway. At all.

Her mind froze in that instant, somehow saving her from an overload of confusion and pain. Second by second ticked by slowly before she was able to focus and concentrate. Finally, after her brain decided that she wasn't in danger of going into a psychotic break, she flung herself at the bare chest in front of her.

"Ethan! Thank god!"

Theresa said nothing as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling his body to hers. He was hard, the muscles in his arms taught and hanging at his sides. But Theresa didn't care. Her cheek rested above his heart and she listened to it closely as if it were giving her secrets. Everything of the past few days melted into obscurity. Nothing mattered. The pain, the tears, the heartache, the torture, the depression, the anger, everything… she was reborn a new woman in that moment in his arms.

"It's you, it's really you," Theresa repeated over and over again as she stepped back and ran her palms along his bare chest. Her fingertips traced the planes of his body, the ripples in his pectorals and the veins in his biceps. She'd missed his body.

Still, Ethan didn't move. His body remained rigid as she studied him. He barely looked down at her.

Her nose picked up the scent of him and she smiled inwardly as she realized that the shirt left in his closet hadn't come close to the true scent of his skin. He was warm and smooth and salty and sweet. The aroma pierced her senses, sending her mind into a frenzy.

"Ethan…," she breathed.

His name fell out of her lips quickly as her brain fought the urge to begin doubting what it was seeing. Without another thought, her lips laid a kiss on his chest right above his heart.

Ethan's hands finally moved to her shoulders and though she expected him to embrace her, he didn't. Instead, he pushed her back with strong arms.

"Stop."

Moving rigidly again, Ethan's arm reached behind him and pulled the door closed, leaving them in the hallway alone. Theresa smiled at him, her eyes finally reaching up to his. What she found there was even more confusing.

He stared down at her in silence, his eyes a cooler blue than she had remembered. His eyes were always such a dark blue when he was with her… when he was sated, lustful, loving. This was different, a different kind of blue.

"Theresa," he said, hard. "You should go home. I'm sure your husband's waiting for you."

The chill in his voice was haunting when he spoke to her. His eyes moved to hers for a brief instant, and then he looked to the wall behind her as if avoiding her at all costs. His feet took a shuffle backwards, minutely, away from her. Theresa knew the gesture, she knew the anger in his face, she knew the frigidity in his eyes. And for the first time, it was being directed at her.

In confusion, in pain, Theresa stared up at him and was silently begging him not to be real. In the days of pain that she had faced, knowing what she had gone through, she would have gladly gone through it all again if he would remove the ice from his eyes.

"Ethan, no… please."

The tears were beginning to fall from her eyes again and she welcomed the burning in her irises for some kind of distraction from the unimaginable pain her heart was beginning to feel.

Again Ethan's eyes shifted to her face for a split second and when he began speaking, he looked to the wall behind her.

"You shouldn't be here. Go." He nodded his head in the direction of the elevator as if to demonstrate what he meant.

Theresa's jaw began quivering as if she'd just been plunged into ice cold waters. Fear washed over her and the pain in her torso and in her chest was magnified beyond anything she could ever have contained at one time. Somehow, she remained standing. Somehow, her heart continued beating. Somehow…

Theresa closed the space between them and put her palms back on the surface of his chest. She felt the pulsing of his heart beneath her fingertips, but she couldn't hear anything. For the first time in the years that she'd known him, his heart wasn't saying anything to her.

"I choose you, Ethan. You. I love you… so much. Please…"

Ethan's eyes shifted to hers and held a stare for a long while. Theresa suddenly had hope that he would believe her, that the ice in his eyes would melt and he would take back everything he'd just said, that he'd take her in his arms and erase the pain that she had known for the past 72 hours.

"You chose Fox," he whispered solidly. "And his child. I have no place in that. I meant what I said in the letter, Theresa. So leave."

The images of Fox and Whitney spooning in her bed came flooding into her mind and she wanted to tell him of what had happened. But she also didn't want him to think that he was her second choice. Ethan was always her first choice, always. It was only when she saw Fox's betrayal did she realize that she could have what she wanted more than anything, finally.

"Ethan, I have to explain. Please," she pleaded desperately.

"Don't make this harder, please." His pleading seemed to echo her own.

Theresa almost lunged for him again, but caught herself for fear that she would push him away even quicker.

"But I can fix this!" The desperation in her voice shook her words quickly. "Please, just let me—"

"No, Theresa," he interrupted quickly. "I meant it." Ethan let a sharp exhale escape his nose as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What we… _had_… is over."

The stress on the past tense of their relationship hit her like a slap in the face. She shook her head frantically, tears flinging to both sides of her face.

"No," she whispered, the word falling through her lips like air.

He eyed her down coldly, his eyes pressing deep into hers. For the first time in her life, she felt nothing by looking at him. Her heart didn't respond as it usually did. She saw nothing of the man she loved before her. He had become a different and transformed man, one that she wasn't sure she could ever get through to.

"I'm with Mariel now, Theresa."

His words echoed in her brain loudly. _I'm with Mariel now. _On a repetitive tickertape, Theresa both saw and heard the words in her head. She tried to focus on them, tried to decipher them, but only images were coming to her.

The reluctance to answer the door when she had first started knocking.

The laughter and sound of something breaking on the other side of the door.

Mariel finally answering the door in brand new lingerie.

Mariel's hair had been tousled.

Ethan answered the door bare-chested.

And now that she looked, his belt buckle was loosened and there appeared to be a red-orange hue smudged across the right side of his neck—the same shade as Mariel's lipstick.

No.

Panic flooded her entire body when she grasped what he had been telling her, both verbally and visually. No wonder Mariel wouldn't give Theresa the information of Ethan's whereabouts. After all the time that they'd tried to be together, after everything they'd meant to each other, he'd chosen a copy of Gwen.

"No…," Theresa whispered as she took a step back from him. "You…," she whispered, heartbroken.

The pain cascaded from her heart to her spine and into her stomach. Her hand clenched at her side as she tried to stand through the panic and pain she was beginning to feel.

"No…" Tears fell from her eyes and Ethan turned away. "Not her, Ethan. Please not her."

He took in a sharp breath through his nostrils and turned back to her.

"You should go."

Ethan's palm reached behind him and found the knob. He stepped backwards into the doorway and was about to close the door in her face when her toes wedged between the door and the wall. Theresa winced when her foot was trapped painfully.

"Go back to Fox, Theresa. Go home."

Theresa was struck by the chill in his voice.

"Ethan, please…," she whispered. "Don't do this… not again," she begged. "I can't take it."

He still wouldn't look at her and focused his vision on the blank wall behind her. Theresa's hand reached out and quickly settled on top of his folded arms across his chest.

"Look at me," she pleaded softly. "Please…"

Hesitantly, Ethan looked at her and made contact with her eyes. His insides twisted in pain. He could tell that she was trying to hold her tears back. Immediately, he felt himself breaking inside. But his will ironed out and he steeled himself against her.

"I love you, Ethan," she said softly.

For a fleeting moment, Theresa caught sight of his walls breaking. Taking advantage, she took a step towards him and wrapped her arms around his bare torso.

"I love you," she repeated.

She pulled herself closer against his body, a completion washing over her as their bodies made full contact. With her lips parted, she turned her face against his bare chest again and breathed shakily over his heart, the humid air of her breath stirring goose bumps to life on his skin.

Several minutes passed and neither moved. Ethan didn't try to push her away, but neither did his arms embrace her against him. He stood with her arms wrapped around his body and he internally fought with himself on his next move.

Theresa stood against him, her mind and her heart warring with each other. Her brain had already decided that she needed to leave, to allow Ethan to move on with whomever he'd chosen. But her heart wouldn't let her move. She needed him, she needed to be in his arms. The idea that he was with another woman sent fire into her veins that threatened to make her burst into flames.

But she had to let him go. She knew that.

More than ever before, she understood what pain she was able to cause. And she also knew what could happen to all parties involved when someone had the heart to be somewhere else. If Mariel was who he truly wanted…

Tears began falling from her burning eyes again, leaking down onto his hard chest. Still, Ethan didn't move. She cried and cried because she knew that she was going to have to walk away from him… yet again. For what seemed like the hundredth time in her life, she was walking away from the only man she wanted to be with forever. It didn't seem fair. But maybe he was right; perhaps it was fate for them not to be together.

And that thought made her cry even more.

"I'll love you my whole life…," she whispered after her tears slowed.

Not expecting a reaction from him, Theresa pulled back quickly, but he caught her off guard when his hands captured her face and turned her eyes up to his. Finally, the ice in his eyes was gone. The deep sapphire that she was used to was back and she silently thanked him for giving her something to remember besides his coldness.

Ethan's thumbs traced circles on her cheeks and their eyes bored into each other's deeply. Tears that had wet her face were traced away by his fingers. His jaw tightened as if he were biting down extremely hard to prevent himself from saying the words that were practically springing through his throat.

Slowly, Theresa's hands rose and went to his face, mirroring his action. They held each other's faces and stared intensely. Theresa's fingers moved over the contours of his cheekbones, the curve of his eyes, the lines of brow and the square of his jaw, memorizing every minute detail.

Then suddenly, Theresa pressed her lips to his and kissed him. She didn't open her mouth or use her tongue. Instead she etched the feel of his lips against hers into her memory. Before Ethan had the time to react to her action, she pulled back and pressed her forehead against his with her eyes closed, her mind still locking her memories into a vault.

And then she was gone, out of his arms, away. Her feet clapped against the marble floor as she raced for the elevator. She was lucky that the elevator opened as soon as she pressed the call button and she stepped in without looking back at Ethan. The ride back down to the lobby floor was difficult and she struggled to keep herself standing. Somehow she made it through the elevator ride and back into her waiting limo before she collapsed.

______

The silver doors slid open and Chris' head popped up to see who it could be. Though not surprising, he was surprised to see Theresa. Her appearance startled him greatly. She looked even more disheveled than she had the day before, possibly even more broken.

And she was barefoot.

Chris stood from his desk quickly and rushed to her side. Upon reaching her, he noticed that her face was still smudged with various black stains. Her eyes were cracked red from unrest and her skin was a paler shade than he'd ever seen. Her cheeks looked sunken in as if she hadn't eaten in days, and actually, he thought, she probably hadn't. Chris turned his attention down to her wardrobe and noticed that her blouse was untucked and wrinkled and her shoes—the fabulous Christian Louboutin shoes with the maroon bows on the sides—were missing. And in their place were bloody scrapes against her flesh.

"T, what happened to your feet?" he asked. "And your shoes?"

But Theresa didn't respond and she walked past him and to her office. She didn't turn on the light as she entered and walked over to sit in the chair behind her desk. But as she reached it, she was confused to find that it was laying on its side on the floor.

"Chris, what happened in here?"

Theresa didn't turn to face him as she asked the question and bent down to pick up her chair. Without rest, without nourishment, her strength was severely depleted and she felt lightheaded as she stood upright once again. Her feet curled when the raw flesh in the arch of her foot came in contact with the rough fibers of the carpet and she winched as she sat down.

"What did you do to your feet?"

Theresa closed her eyes and tried her best to fight back the flooding memories of what had happened with Ethan only minutes before. She told herself that she wouldn't cry again, that she wouldn't break down as she had in the limo. Her eyes couldn't take it anymore, anyway.

"Mariel likes to slam doors on people's feet," she explained with a hard sigh.

Chris moved closer to her as she gingerly placed her feet atop her desk. He examined the red gashes in both her arches and the bloody lines that were gauged just below her smallest toes on both feet.

"Are you alright? Let me go get the first aid kit."

Chris was already stepping towards the door and prepared to play doctor when Theresa stopped him.

"No, that's alright. I'll live." She turned towards the window and stared out at the buildings in the distance. "On the outside, at least."

With that, she couldn't push the tears back anymore; the memories were far too great, the wounds far too fresh. The fire was reborn against her pupils and she cried, the burning tears falling to her face in the tracks that seemed to be in the process of being eroded into her skin.

"What happened with Mariel?" Chris asked, stepping towards her slowly. "T?" he asked when she refused to answer.

Theresa shook her head, both angry that she was crying again and trying to push the pain out of her eyes. Instead of answering Chris' question, Theresa's hand slid across her midsection and grasped firmly, trying to apply pressure against the pain. And for a brief moment, the pain was gone as she thought about the fact that she was cradling her baby.

But just as quickly, the pain returned and she sucked in a shaky breath through her teeth.

"Maybe we should get you to a doctor," Chris suggested, not waiting for her permission and stepping towards her, ready.

Theresa shook her head with another sucked-in breath and refused. "No. I'm fine."

Chris eyed her and wished he could take a picture and show it to her to prove how ridiculous she sounded. Her hand was grasped for dear life on her hip, clearly applying as much pressure on her abdomen as possible, she couldn't breathe without difficulty, and she was crying constantly.

Though he knew that the crying was probably a cause of not only physical pain, but emotional as well.

"You're not fine," Chris said firmly. "T, look at yourself."

Theresa ignored his attempts again and shook her head in protest. Instead of answering him, her hand pulled tighter and the pressure across her abdomen increased, sending endorphins into her bloodstream. Suddenly strengthened, Theresa moved from her chair with her jaw set hard and began to arrange everything that was in complete chaos.

"What do we have on Mariel?" Theresa asked quickly.

Chris' eyes snapped open and he focused on her. "What?"

"Mariel Jonsten. I want everything we have on her."

Theresa was moving around like a mad woman, her fingers flying through her disheveled hair and her feet her were pacing back and forth the same ten steps.

"I want to know what she has for breakfast, dinner, brunch, after noon tea, _everything._ I want to know who her first grade teacher was, and what kind of toothpaste she uses."

Theresa started sorting papers on her desk, stacking them neatly while Chris watched with a cautious eye.

"Can I ask—"

"If I can find something on her, something that would get me into her building—"

"T? What the hell are you talking about?"

She continued organizing her desk without paying him any attention. Theresa's mind wandered in her logic. She knew that she had to return to Mariel's apartment and try to talk to Ethan. She knew that she'd be able to get through to him eventually. She had no other choice but to hope. But Mariel wouldn't allow her in the building to see Ethan, she knew that. And there was no way that Mariel would relinquish the only control she had against her nemesis by selling the building. So Theresa knew that she'd have to blackmail Mariel into selling. And only then would she be allowed to see Ethan again.

"Theresa," he said strongly, bringing her out of her thoughts.

He'd never called her by her real name and the shock caught her attention.

"Look," she said, a logical clear coming over her eyes, "I'm sure she's going to have security shield me from entering her apartment building. And she won't sell it to me just to spite me…"

Chris grabbed her wrists to stop her from ignoring him by busying herself with her sudden urge to clean her office.

"But why do you want to buy her building? I don't get it, T."

Theresa knew the answer. She wanted to answer. But even as her tongue began moving, her throat refused to produce the sound that would ultimately shatter her.

Ethan…

Theresa hesitantly lifted her eyes to Chris and with a small fake smile, she begged him to drop the subject. "Please."

Chris knew the look and because of his own fear to see her completely destroyed, he nodded slowly and patted her hand. "Sure. What do you need?"

Theresa smiled back, this time more genuine than before. More—not complete.

"Thank you." Theresa set the stacked pile before her in the drawer on her side. "Anything we have on Mariel and Luke Jonsten, I need to know."

Chris nodded, his eyes wandering in confusion. Theresa continued before he had the chance to ask his question.

"Alistair used to keep a file on everyone in Harmony, and anyone he ever did business with. The Jonstens should be in there."

Theresa shifted in her seat and winced when the pain her abdomen returned with a vengeance.

"After Alistair died," she continued through her pain, "Fox kept the file just in case people thought he'd be too soft when he took over Crane. Alistair didn't leave legacy for a teddy bear. " Her head fell back and she closed her eyes as she silently dealt with the pain. "There's a copy of the file in the bottom drawer of the black file cabinet next to your desk."

Chris' confusion passed completely as it faded into awe. He couldn't believe that he sat next to the seediest secrets in all of Harmony and never knew. He had the sudden urge to read through it thoroughly. And take notes with colorful stickies.

Theresa broke his concentration as she hissed in a sharp breath.

"Are you okay?"

The thought bounced around in Theresa's head. It reverberated against memories of Ethan, bare-chested and cold in attitude; against the scorn and sarcastic smirk on Mariel's lip; against the memories of Fox and Whitney; against everything she lived and felt for two years.

"Can you get me what I need, please?"

She ignored his question and Chris pretended not to notice. He nodded and headed out to find what he needed.

Chris opened the bottom drawer of the black filing cabinet and was half-expecting to find pictures of everyone in Harmony with their past offenses listed next to them. Instead, sucking the drama out of it, in the drawer was a plain black binder. It was thick, though—the usual size of four binders together in one.

Chris stared at the large binder when he picked it up as if it were the world's most sacred text. Even though he would have loved to blackmail his landlord, a few of his exes, and even his brother, Theresa was more important. Suddenly he could hear her crying again.

She'd tried to muffle her sounds but they were impossible to hide fully. The pain was getting worse, but at the same time, she was glad. If it wasn't for the pain, she was afraid that she would pass out from exhaustion. And she couldn't. She needed to keep going for Ethan, she needed to prove to him that they had a real shot at being together for the first time in years. And she wouldn't let him pass it by.

Chris rushed back into the office with the huge binder under his arm. Theresa had spun her chair so that she was facing the window again and he knew that was her telling him to leave her alone. Not saying anything, Chris moved to one of the couches in the room and watched her carefully, hoping she wouldn't break out into a scream. But all he heard were the sniffles and muffled moans of her crying… again.

It took all of his effort to not go to her and try to ease her obvious pain. But as he looked down to the large binder on his lap, his curiosity peaked and he felt like a little kid that was doing something naughty. Chris lifted the top cover of the binder and expected something to hit him in the chest in warning that what he was about to read was highly classified. But nothing happened. It looked just like an ordinary binder.

The pages were sheathed in plastic and there were tabs on the sides that classified entries by name and date. Chris had to tell himself over and over again not to look for names of those he knew. Though he tried, he failed. As he flipped through the pages, he caught sight of names that he was familiar with and he had to suppress the desire to know the dirt behind their lives.

Finally, he found an entry labeled: JONSTEN, LUKE.

Chris flipped a page in search of JONSTEN, MARIEL, but the next person listed was JUNIPER, MICHAEL.

Something in Chris' chest tingled as he thought about the luck he had that he was the one privilege to all the secrets behind the Jonstens. His eyes began skimming over the words, mentally telling himself to focus on finding Mariel's name rather than concentrate on Luke's offenses.

Midway through the page, the name jumped out and Chris began reading quickly. He soaked in detail by detail, looking for something that would give Theresa the leverage she wanted. There was simple information, the details that Theresa had mentioned such as favorite restaurants and known affairs. Chris' interest piqued there, but when he realized that she was now a divorced woman, the information of an affair wouldn't do anything but make her blush.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as Chris read and he wondered just how Theresa planned to get what she wanted without any dirt to use against the blonde woman. Minutes passed, then more minutes, and he turned pages that had been blocked in the JONSTEN, LUKE tab. Nothing extreme yet.

The sound of moving leather made Chris turn up from the binder. Theresa had gotten up from her chair. He wasn't surprised to find that her arm was still pressed across her body in a defense position. She was pressing as tightly as she possibly could and it almost hurt Chris just looking at her.

Theresa walked by him and escaped another attempted suggestion at medical attention. Though she wasn't sure what could be the cause of the pain in her abdomen, she didn't care. All she knew was that there was nothing else more important to her than Ethan and getting to him.

_Most likely an ulcer,_ she thought to herself.

Theresa was prone to ulcers when she was younger due to her constant worry and flair for overdramatization. When her father left the family, she wound up in the hospital with an ulcer a week later. When her baby sister was sent away to live in Mexico, another ulcer formed. Caught early, she even had one beginning to tear its way through her stomach when she had a big standardized test in grade school.

And with all the worry and panic she was dealing with now… it was no wonder. Besides, she also knew she was lucky that she had evaded ulcers for the previous two years of drama. Even though she wasn't sure how long she should go without seeking medical attention, her own wellbeing was the last thing on her mind.

Theresa marched out of her office and was headed to the restroom when something on Chris' desk caught her eye. It was Ethan's name.

Theresa ignored the pain and stepped around his desk to retrieve the paper. As she held it up, her breath caught when she realized what it was.

"Chris!"

Chris ran out of the office to find her behind his desk with the fax from Ethan's credit card company in her hand. He wanted to immediately explain just so he could see her smile again, but the sadness didn't lift from her face instantaneously as he thought it would.

"What is this?" she asked slowly, her eyes moving up to him.

Chris stepped towards her with a half smile on his face. "Ethan's statements. They faxed them over earlier."

Theresa finally remembered that through all of the insanity that she'd dealt with in the day so far, she'd completely forgotten what made her tear out of Ethan's apartment in the first place. The shadow of a smile spread over her lips and she turned down again to check the fax.

Her eyes moved over the words quickly, skipping from side to side over the page and she soaked in the meaning as fast as she could. Finally, her eyes stopped on one line and she read it over and over and over and over and over until she was sure that it was true.

"It couldn't be that simple…," she whispered to herself.

Chris took a step closer to her, trying to see what she saw.

"What happened?"

Without another word, Theresa ran down the hallway towards the elevator doors and jumped in, her feet clapping against the floor the entire way.

Twenty minutes later, Theresa stood walked out of the office of Motel Harmony. Her hands were shaking and her bare feet were still aching. She walked down the parking lot, past Harold in his waiting limo, towards the last door of the L-shaped building. The sun was setting and it made the white door glow, almost beckoning her closer.

As she approached closer to the door with 7B on it, she noticed the black Lexus. Something in her chest flew and constricted at the same time. He was only feet away from her now. The very thought made her chest ache in emptiness and soar in hope.

Finally, she reached the door and it took her several minutes before she could summon enough courage to knock. At first, she held onto the gold knob and waited, as if it had a magical power. Her heart was pounding and she felt weak and dizzy. The pain in her abdomen ceased only the slightest bit and setting her jaw into a hard line, she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

______

Wiping the film of steam from the mirror, Ethan stared at his reflection. The streak left water drops sliding down the glass and cutting into the surrounding cloudy image. The whites of his eyes were cracked with sleep deprivation and his cheekbones looked sharper than usual. Despite the fact that he had just stood under water almost hot enough to burn him, his muscles still felt tense and he rolled his shoulders to try to dispense the tightness.

It didn't work.

Sighing deeply, Ethan reached for the towel next to him and shook it through his short hair quickly. He pressed the towel to his face and held it for a few minutes, his fingers pressing firmly against his eyes.

Brown eyes and dark hair flashed in his brain.

Exhaling in semi-anger, Ethan looked back up into the mirror and shook her free. Rolling his shoulders back again, Ethan grabbed the white towel hanging on the bar behind him and wrapped it around his waist. Even the simple movement reminded him of how physically exhausted his body was. His muscles ached, his body was always tired, and he knew that it wasn't due to the physical exertion Mariel had subjected him to.

The sudden emptiness that he was feeling, the desire to crawl into a ball and sleep for weeks at a time, had been the same hanging dread he felt after Theresa's wedding. A part of him still didn't know what strength existed in him enough to keep him from putting a pistol to his temple that day.

Shaking his mind loose of memories and plaguing thoughts, Ethan smeared the rest of the collected humidity off the mirror. Then there was suddenly a knock on the door. Knowing it was much too late for the cleaning staff or any other room service to bother him, Ethan automatically knew that it could only be Mariel. Already, he felt even more tired that he was. He knew that it would take a certain amount of effort to convince her that he'd had much too long of a day for whatever activities she'd had in mind.

Padding across the room to the front door, Ethan let out a sharp sigh as he twisted the doorknob.

"Mar, I'm sorry, but—" He stopped as he realized that it wasn't the suspected blonde standing in front of him. "Theresa."

She looked up at him, her eyes a cross between determined and afraid. On the verge of tears, he could tell, her eyes were too shiny. Smears of gray marked her face from where mascara and liner had fallen. Her hair was the same mess he'd seen earlier and her clothes were just as wrinkled. But none of it mattered to him. It pained him more than anything else to see the once-elegant woman broken before him.

Theresa swallowed roughly before diverting her eyes down to her feet. She fidgeted, unsure of what to say. Turning back up to him, her mouth opened and closed several times as she swallowed the uneasy words and confusion.

"Theresa, what are you doing here?"

Her fingers fidgeted again, her nails picking at each other, her knuckles cracking. Never before had Theresa been nervous around him and it was actually beginning to scare him. She looked too vulnerable, too fragile, too broken. It was clear on her face that she was desperately trying to keep herself from saying something that would get her the same response at Mariel's apartment. In that instant, Ethan understood that she was afraid of him. And it stung. It stung harder and sharper than he could ever have imagined.

Never in his life did he ever wish her harm, or pain. And it was becoming more and more evident that in his coldness and callousness, he was the cause of the broken woman he saw before him. No matter what choices she'd made, no matter what circumstances had led them to that point, all he wanted to do was cradle her in his arms and kiss away every tear that she would ever cry because of him. He wanted to erase all her pain, wipe every hurtful thing they'd ever done to each other and press his body against hers. He wanted her in his bed, her arms wrapped around him, his legs entwined with hers. He wanted to fall asleep counting the rhythm of her breathing and touching the smoothness of her skin.

But with everything in him, he was fighting back those urges.

"Can I come in?" Theresa asked suddenly, her voice low like a child asking a parent to come out of the corner.

Suddenly afraid to speak for fear that he would indulge in the urges he was fighting to suppress, he stepped aside quietly and opened the door enough to let her slide by. Only their breathing was heard in the room after the click of the door closing. Ethan turned to her slowly, unsure of what to say or what to do. Theresa looked to her feet again, a worried expression hovering over her eyes.

Ethan licked his lips unconsciously, biding time and over thinking every scenario that would bring her to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her again, surprising himself.

Theresa fidgeted with her fingertips again, her eyes downcast to her bare feet. Almost as if ashamed, she couldn't meet his eyes. But when she finally did turn up to meet his stare, he realized that it was fear that kept her looking away at first.

"Chris has been watching your credit card activity for me."

Ethan waited for her to add more information that might explain the strange behavior and when she didn't, he mentally relinquished the subject go on any further.

Both stood in silence, their eyes darting back and forth across the room and back to each other. Ethan opened his mouth to say something but when he caught her eye, no words could come to mind and he closed his lips once again. He tried to speak again, opening his mouth and taking in a breath of air to facilitate his speaking when she began first.

"I was worried about you," she explained quickly. "I…" A shaky swallow stopped her and lingered over them in another painful silence.

"You—you shouldn't be here," Ethan whispered, taking a small step away backwards away from her.

Theresa watched him retreat and everything in her reeled with despair. Acting on pure instinct alone, her arm flew across her torso and she took a step towards him.

"Ethan, please don't do this."

Ethan didn't respond; he simply let his head fall with a sharp exhale, turning his eyes away from her again. More pregnant silence befell them and both stood unmoving. Theresa took the opportunity to look around, hoping with everything she had in her that Mariel wasn't sitting on the couch with the same evil smirk on her face as she'd worn at her own apartment earlier that morning.

The room was smaller than what Theresa expected, but then again, it was Motel Harmony. As the manager had told her, Ethan had reserved the Honeymoon Suite, but probably because it was the only room the motel had that wasn't the size of a crawlspace. There was living room space with a loveseat and a television, and about ten feet away was the bedroom space with a king-sized bed. Something inside of Theresa warmed when she saw the modesty of the room.

Though Ethan was raised a Crane, he never felt that he needed a lavish existence to feel alive. Instead of choosing a more expensive hotel, a five star, $2000 a night suite, he chose a motel on the outskirts of town where he'd have enough space for himself. Simplicity. If nothing else, Theresa always loved Ethan's simplicity.

"What do you want, Theresa?"

His voice was cold and devoid of any and all emotion that she usually associated with him. It stung.

Theresa met his eyes, silently begging him. Silently, she walked forward a few steps until she was right in front of him.

"You."

Ethan held her eyes for a moment after she spoke and for a brief instant, Theresa thought she saw the man that had held her and loved her so many times for so many years. But the moment ended when his eyes hardened again and he looked down, willingly breaking their connection.

Ethan took a step back, away from her.

"It's too late, Theresa."

Theresa shook her head quickly, unwilling to accept what he said as truth. "No, Ethan, it's not. It's not too late."

"Yes, Theresa, yes, it is," Ethan spat out.

Ethan stepped towards her again and took her hands in his. Their skin flushed with a familiar warmth at the contact and Ethan ignored it. He brought her hands up to chest level and stared at her knuckles.

"It's over," he whispered. Ethan moved her hands lower and placed them against her belly. "This is your choice."

Tears leaked through her eyelashes at his words. He was right, and yet so wrong.

"No, Ethan," she said frantically, her fingers wiping away the moisture under her eyes. "You're my choice. You. I love you. I want to be with you."

Ethan let her hands fall and shook his head. He had to close his eyes to hide from the pain he saw in hers.

"I told you, I'm with Mariel now," he sighed as he took another step back from her.

Theresa shook her head in defiance. "You don't love her."

Ethan breathed a large exhale and met her eyes with a hard stare. "I never said I did."

"But you love _me_, Ethan. Don't do this."

Ethan took another step back and refused to answer her. He didn't deny that he loved her, and he didn't deny not loving Mariel. But the pain he saw in her eyes was getting to him and needed to get away from her before she broke through the only wall he'd ever be able to build against her.

"I'm not going back to Fox," Theresa whispered.

Ethan looked back up to her quickly, surprised by her admission. A few days ago, when he'd taken her up to the cliffs, he was sure that he'd be able to change her mind, but he saw that nothing could. And now, she was using his last exhausted hope against him.

"Why?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.

Theresa's eyes turned down. She wasn't sure that she should tell him about Fox's drunken affair. She didn't want Ethan to think that he was simply a filler. She wanted to be with him before she went to Fox, though she didn't know she could be. Now she knew and she was going to take her chance wholeheartedly.

"I need to be with you."

That wasn't good enough for Ethan. He had begged her. He begged and pleaded and cried for her to choose him over her husband. But she didn't listen. Nothing he had said could change her mind.

"What about the baby?"

His question caught her off guard and instinctively, Theresa's hand flew across her body and she grasped her hip tightly.

"What do you mean?" Theresa asked, unsure of what he could be referring to.

"It's Fox's, Theresa." The cold demeanor was back full force. "Are you telling me that you can honestly ignore that? That you'll never think of him when you look at the baby?"

Theresa knew the answer. She knew that she would never be able to look at her daughter without thinking of Fox's deep brown eyes, or her son and not think about Fox's playfulness. He would haunt her with their child forever. He would be a part of her life forever. She would never fully be Ethan's again.

When she didn't answer, Ethan took another step back from her and put up his invisible shield once again.

"You should go."

Ethan took another step back, increasing the space between them before he turned around. Theresa stared at his back and caught a sudden chill at how cold he was being towards her. Never in a thousand years did she ever suspect that he would have been capable of acting that way towards her.

And even though she didn't agree with his decision, she could finally understand. Even though he would love her, and he did, he couldn't continue a charade when he knew that the woman he loved was always reminded of her previous husband on a daily basis. He knew that it would eventually progress to him constantly questioning whether or not Fox was on her thoughts as opposed to simply her child reminding her of him. And worse, what if it grew to the paranoia and misery that Fox experienced now for the same reason?

Ethan knew he had to put an end to it. Even if it meant his own happiness, his sanity, his future, he didn't care. He was too afraid of the possible future, haunted by Fox's memory, to choose what he really wanted.

"But you said… you said you wouldn't give up," she whispered, her head downcast.

Ethan didn't turn around and cringed when she reminded him of his words. It was true. A few days ago, when she promised to tell Fox of their affair, when she called him and apologized, he'd reassured her that he wouldn't give up; he promised to wait for her for as long as it took.

Still not turning, Ethan answered, "The wait got to be too long, Theresa."

An electrical surge, perhaps caused by Ethan's words, perhaps by stress leaking into her body and making her ulcer pulsate, pushed through her stomach and she let out a soft moan as she grabbed across her body to suppress the pain.

With the sound she made, Ethan turned and watched as she almost hunched over in pain. He wasn't sure what to do. At first he was afraid that he'd caused her so much pain that she was falling apart. But when she finally stood up straight, he was secretly relieved that he hadn't inflicted such destruction.

Theresa nodded when she realized that there was nothing she could do to change his mind. For the time being, his mind was made up. Completely defeated, heartbroken, exhausted, Theresa knew she had no choice but to leave him be. She offered him a sad smile before she turned for the door.

Ethan watched as she walked away, a piece of him screaming for his arms to reach out. Every step she took, the more his instincts screamed out in defiance against him. With all of his strength, he pushed it all down and steeled himself.

Theresa reached the door and her hand grasped around the knob. She stopped and dropped her head. She hated that she was going to walk away from him, unsure if she'd ever see him again. It hurt knowing that she may never be in the same room with him ever again.

Suddenly, a soft echo pulsed through the silence and directly into Theresa's chest. Her hand stopped mid-twist and she closed her eyes to listen.

The same painful, tormented, agonized echo shook through her chest again.

A sharp exhale left her breathless as she turned quickly. Her heart sped to three times its normal rhythm, threatening to send her body into overdrive and crash. But she didn't care. What she felt, what she heard, she knew that could get through to him. He was hanging on the edge of giving in, she knew it and she had to trust what she felt.

The dark curtains of her hair fell over her shoulders and spun to her neck as she turned. Her broken appearance shattered him. In the few seconds that she had faced away from him, the whites of her eyes had turned red and the mascara on her lashes smudged into black streaks. He was afraid of what she would do next. Her presence alone was making his resolve weaken and he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to take seeing her in pain.

"Ethan… you're the love of my life," she whispered forcefully, putting extra emphasis on the last word. "And I'll take you with me as long as I live."

Ethan could almost hear the shattering sound that his heart made.

"Every moment with you… every memory… is precious." She paused, her throat quivered as she struggled with her next words. "And that's why I need one more."

The words fell out of her mouth faster than she intended. But she couldn't take them back and she couldn't stop.

"Please, Ethan," she begged. Taking one step forward, Theresa's heart was screaming in agony to Ethan. "I need one more night in your arms… one last memory… before I let you go."

Ethan's mind swam in darkness, wondering if he would be able to survive the torture. Urges were pushing and pulling against him. Again, he could feel his resolve weakening and he wished with everything he had in him that he had the strength to stay sane, to push her away.

The natural survival instinct inside all humans creates fear of pain. But for Ethan, it was an inescapable pain either way he looked at it. To be without her felt as if he were being cast into hell; every minute away from her was like a flame against his skin that burned hotter and hotter. To be with her, and yet not able to be really with her, was even worse.

Looking at her, to see how broken she had become, was worse than his own pain. Loving her had taught him that her life mattered more. He would do anything to keep her from hurting. Even if it meant hurting himself more in the process.

Ethan didn't say anything after Theresa made her request. Theresa could see that his chest was moving in calm breaths, his mind tracing over the possibilities of what she was saying. The shame and the pity that had begun to wash over her body was dragging her even further down. Every second that ticked by that Ethan didn't answer her, didn't make a move, was like a knife to her chest. She was sure of his answer. She was sure that she was going to walk away from him, never to feel him again.

Ethan watched her, his eyes pressing deep into hers from across the space where they stood. The shaking glassiness of her eyes was breaking him from the inside out. He could tell that she was trying as hard as she could to not break down in front of him. He almost felt a surge of warmth as he recalled her usual stubbornness. Still, a piece of him ached to see her in so much pain. It was unnatural for him to stand there and do nothing about it.

Theresa saw him take a few steps towards her and her world froze suddenly. As he reached out to grab hold of the open door, her heart broke into yet even smaller pieces. He was going to simply ignore her request and send her away. Understanding then, and afraid to face the emptiness in the eyes that had only held love for her, Theresa turned away from him, ready to walk out.

Ethan closed the door before she could.

Confusion spun in her brain, soundless echoes bouncing in the space of thought. Quickly, forgetting her pain, Theresa looked up to Ethan with questions. He finally looked down to her and she realized that the emptiness she was afraid of facing was filled with something else—something much more familiar.

For what might have been hours to both of them, they simply stared at each other. Ethan continued questioning everything and Theresa just waited for whatever was going to happen next. Her eyes pleaded with him and still she fought to withhold her tears. When the door had closed, Theresa thought that Ethan would give her what she had requested. But staring at him, the silence unwilling to produce anything, she was beginning to think that even if he had decided to give her what she'd asked for, he had changed his mind.

The quivering in Theresa's lip finally brought clarity to Ethan's mind. He had stared at her while he fought internally with himself. Just looking into her eyes, he wondered where he'd ever gotten the strength to pull himself away from her, to break her heart, to leave her. As the weakening resolve filled him, he fought it back like a bulldozer against a wall.

Just one more night…

One…

Ethan finally settled with himself and trusted in his strength enough to do what he'd been aching to since he first saw her walk in. Brushing his hand softly across her cheek, Ethan held her face. The tense air surrounding them had both wondering just what was going to happen next. When a silent tear fell from Theresa's eye, Ethan kissed her swiftly.

It took Theresa a moment to understand what was going on. She knew that Ethan was in front of her. She knew that he was holding her, kissing her, but she couldn't reason with it. Only minutes ago, she had seen the empty fire behind Ethan's eyes. But it had all faded when he approached her. It wasn't until she could feel the restraint lingering in his kiss that she understood.

He'd been fighting it all along.

When Ethan hesitantly pulled her to him, her arm pressed against his back softly. Still, even as his actions grew less restrained, Theresa was afraid of giving all of herself in fear that it would only make the rejection blow more painful.

Ethan held her more firmly against his body, the control slipping away piece by piece as his natural instincts surged forward. Holding her, kissing her, was as natural as breathing. He had been drowning without her.

In her moments without him, Theresa would focus on her times with Ethan, trying to relive them. But with his smooth lips against her own, she realized that her memory could never do him justice. With years of dreaming and remembering, she would never get close to what it really felt like to be in his arms for even two minutes. His arms around her, his lips against her skin, his hands on her body, his eyes staring down at her… Those things could never be substituted or captured completely. And that realization hit her harder than she could have imagined.

One night wouldn't be enough.

Even if she saw him every day for the rest of her life, it would never be enough.

Ethan began to feel his mind swirl, his hold on his restraint slipping like sand in an hourglass. The loose hand against his back pressed tighter and the hairs on the back of his neck popped up. It took everything in him to rein in the control that was being flooded with lust. Afraid of falling into what he'd been denying for weeks, Ethan pulled away, breaking their lips with a pop like opening suction. Theresa's body frenzied and pulsed when he tore away from her.

He stared at her, his aching eyes pressing deep into hers. "Are you sure about this?"

And Theresa understood what he was telling her. If she kissed him again, he would give her what she wanted. If she kissed him again, he would make love to her—for the last time.

That thought bounced in her brain over and over again, echoing in the silence of her mind. She stared into his eyes and wondered if she could really say goodbye to him for good. Tomorrow, when she was alone, with the latest images of him flashing in her memory, how would she go on? How could she walk away and never look back?

When she didn't answer him, Ethan felt his heart sink. He knew then that he needed what she needed just as much. He needed to feel close to her, to hold her—for the last time. Her eyes swam even more than they had and he knew that she was suppressing tears. If he gave into her request and into his desires, it would hurt her more. Even though they were both living in pain without each other, more pain would be caused if she needed more than she claimed.

Ethan dropped his hands from her face and took a slow step back. Theresa seemed to be lost as he walked away from her. She was frozen in her pain, locked in shock. His kiss was still fresh on her lips and now he was walking away from her. She knew that leaving him knowing that she would never see him again, never hold him, never touch him again, would kill her. Yet, with him so near to her, so aching to be touched by her, she couldn't walk away yet. She needed him and would endure the pain when she had to. But she wouldn't let the last chance to be with him through her fingers. She had to try.

Ethan turned away from her, taking a few more steps in the opposite direction. Something in Theresa's chest panicked and her arms silently reached out for him, longing to have him against her once again.

"Yes," she whispered quickly. "I'm sure."

Ethan looked back at her, his body half twisted. He stared at her, his eyes probing her with questions. Before any one of them could hold long enough to change his mind again and deny him what he really wanted, he reached his hand out to her, palm up in invitation. Without a second's hesitation, Theresa stepped forward and took his hand.

As soon as they were touching again, the electricity spurned inside of them. With a slight curl of his lip, Ethan smiled at Theresa and slowly led her to the far side of the suite where the bed was. Walking her ahead of him with the slightest pull, she spun around and sat on the bed in front of him.

Theresa looked up at him, their eyes locked in a smoldering stare. Ethan took a step closer to her; their knees came into contact and both their bodies began reacting to even the slightest touch. Tilting her jaw up towards him, Ethan traced hair behind both of her ears and held her face in his hands. Without realizing it, he shook his head to himself in disbelief—her presence continued to disarm him.

In the intense stare, Theresa could feel her heart rate increasing significantly. The adrenaline spilling into her veins made her chest rise and fall in quicker breaths and before she had a chance to focus on the inevitable parting that would come later, she leaned forward and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his abdomen, just above his belly button. So light and fleeting, yet it caused Ethan's head to fall back, his desire quickly spiraling downward.

With his eyes removed from her, Theresa stood in front of him. They were so close that her standing brought them even closer, her chest rubbing against his bare one. Opening his eyes, he stared at her. They were close enough that her lashes brushed his shoulder when she blinked. Testing and tempting each other, they both stood without moving.

Like charging each other, their hands moved over each other's bodies. Quickly, Ethan's exhaustion was forgotten and he felt like a livewire. Theresa's fingers fell to the buttons of her dark vest and quickly pushed it behind her. Ethan held her body close to him with his hands on her waist. With heavy lids, Ethan watched as the vest fell back and as the white blouse she wore was tossed aside, exposing her skin to his view. A wave of lust flooded his veins when she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she let the straps ease off her shoulders, and finally the bra fell to the floor.

He wanted her close; he needed to be against her body; his skin was screaming to feel hers. But as he began to pull her flush against him, Theresa took a step back. Confused, Ethan eyed her. Perhaps she'd changed her mind. For the split second that the thought held purchase in his mind, he felt something inside of him fall away in despair. But the fire in her eyes remained just as strong.

Slightly smirking, Theresa took another step back before pushing her jeans and her underwear to the floor, not caring about brushing the open wounds on her feet. Suddenly she was completely bare in front of him. They only broke the stare because Ethan feasted on her with his eyes.

Without a word, he walked to her and pulled her flush against his body, their chests pressing together erotically. Theresa pressed her palms against his abdomen and could immediately feel the fluttering of his muscles. She smiled as he responded to her. She looked down, teasing him as she moved her fingertips lower. Slowly shifting her eyes upward, she noticed that Ethan's eyes had darkened considerably.

Ethan closed his eyes when he felt her fingers curl beneath the towel line at his waist and pull it undone. The towel fell to a puddle at his feet and the goose bumps that sprang to life on his skin had nothing to do with the chilled air. Opening his eyes, Ethan stared down at Theresa. Her hand wrapped around his length and he couldn't help but close his eyes again. Theresa moved even closer to him, her breath falling against his clavicle. Her hand began to slowly stroke his length in her palm and Ethan let a low groan escape his chest.

"Ethan…" she whispered breathily. She squeezed him in her hand and he groaned again. "I love you…," she breathed out, barely audible.

Ethan's breathing became shaky, his jaw quivered as Theresa stroked and squeezed again. It took him a moment to focus and open his eyes to look down at her. That was when he noticed the shine in her eyes; tears were building and he could that she was fighting the urge to cry with everything she had in her.

Sliding up the soft skin of her arms, Ethan's hands came to both sides of her head and fixed her gaze on his. They held the stare, both asking and answering questions.

"Please…," she whispered, more of a command than a plea.

As if to reinforce her demand, she squeezed her hand around him and his eyes pressed closed the shock of sensation. Subtly, Ethan nodded and agreed.

They fell back against the bed with their eyes locked on each other. Ethan caught the weight of their bodies with his palm against the bed. Their bodies pressed together completely; absolutely no space between them existed.

His body against hers quelled something that had been screaming inside of her. She'd needed to feel him, she'd needed to touch him, she'd needed him. Completely.

His eyes stared into hers as he reached down and pulled her leg around his waist, bringing them in complete contact. Theresa's head began swimming in warning. She knew that it would be twice as hard to walk away from him now. But being so close to him, needing him as much as she did, she couldn't stop.

His eyes never left hers as he pushed into her. She suddenly knew that her life would never feel whole again, she'd never feel him again. She knew that what she was feeling at the moment would haunt her for years to come without him to hold her. She thought to the future without him and all she saw was blackness. Nothing existed without him. Nothing.

Ethan moved against her, their eyes still locked. She felt the tears brimming again accompanied by the familiar salty burn. Ethan's breath brushed her cheek, his tongue peeked out to slide along her bottom lip before he claimed her mouth with his own. As she kissed him back, their bodies moved together and Theresa was completely overcome with emotion.

The tears were beginning to fall from her eyes and to her temples. Without being able to help herself, Theresa hooked her hand around Ethan's neck and bit her thumb. His rough breathing on her ear was accompanied with his tongue tracing along her shoulder. She tried to stay quiet, but her thumb could only hide so much. Theresa moved her free hand to his lower back and encouraged him to move faster and harder against her.

Up until that point, Theresa was unable to focus on the physical feelings her body was creating. But as he moved harder within her, the pain in her abdomen erupted. The pain was greater than she had felt for two days. Just as she was about to open her mouth and scream, she also felt relief. The physical pain was becoming so great that it clouded her mind from any emotional pain that she was feeling.

The hand that was around Ethan's neck released him and went to join her other on his lower back. With every pull back he made, she grasped at him firmly and pulled him towards her with all she could. Her body instinctively tried to fight the assault, but she made her body still and do what she wanted.

_Hurt me,_ she thought. _Make me forget._

She wanted to forget that she would never see him again, never feel him. That her life would lose most of its meaning when she finally left. That he would be moving on with Mariel, another evil blonde that would suck him of all potential. That she would never again be truly happy.

But just thinking about forgetting made the physical pain pale in comparison to the emotional.

_I'll remove myself form your life._

The memory of his words was too much. Despite her best efforts to remain quiet and displace her pain, a sharp inhale and a sad cry fell from her mouth. She tried to recover quickly and her jaw shook as she attempted to close her mouth before the moan of agony escaped.

She was too late. The scream ripped through her throat and out into the air above her.

Ethan's entire body went rigid. His head snapped up quickly and he eyed Theresa cautiously, scared.

"Theresa?" he asked, the panic clear in his voice. "What? Did I hurt you?"

Theresa hated that she wasn't able to hide her pain from him. She had promised that it was only a last time, that it would ensure that she could move on from him. In actuality, she knew it would only do the opposite. And she didn't want him to know that he had made it worse by agreeing.

Theresa unwrapped one of her arms from around him and tried to dry the tears that had leaked through. She shook her head with her eyes closed, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"No," she whispered with a small smile. "No."

Ethan didn't look convinced and his eyes bored into hers, begging her for the truth. His eyes were pressing into hers so she closed her eyes, afraid that he would see what she was hiding. In an attempt to distract him, Theresa pulled him even closer and kissed him deeply, her tongue plundering into his mouth. Her hips lifted against his despite the growing throb she felt in her torso. After a moment, when they broke for air, Ethan pulled back and denied her advances for another kiss.

"Tell me, please." His voice was desperate, his eyes mirrored the pain in hers.

Theresa mentally debated with herself, unsure if she could really tell him. She didn't want him to feel guilty, she didn't want him to be in any more agony because of her foolishness. She looked at the ceiling above him, but she knew his eyes were desperately begging for answer. When she turned back to him, she couldn't deny him no matter how badly she wanted to.

Fighting against the lump in her throat, she was finally able to speak. "It hurts… I just… I don't know how to live without you…"

In that instant, their hearts spoke to each other and in a painful pulse.

Ethan stared at her for a long moment, his heart throbbing just like her own. He couldn't deny anything anymore. In the time he was cruel to her and dismissed her, he hated himself and he knew that he would probably never forgive himself for the pain he intentionally caused her. Without knowing what to say, Ethan kissed the wetness falling to her temple and traced his lips down to her earlobe, brushing her skin.

"You are part of me, Theresa. I'll never live without you."

Her eyes squeezed out tears even faster at his admission. It hurt him to admit it. He knew that they were part of each other, and always would be, but that didn't mean that they could be together. The way things were, it was impossible to be truly free of the haunting memories of Fox and past mistakes. They were doomed to continue their lives with their anguish knowing full well what they had done.

Ethan kissed her temple, then her forehead, before finally circuiting down to her lips. She didn't deny his kiss and eagerly moved her mouth against his, massaging her tongue against his bottom lip. Ethan's hips moved down against her and her neck arched.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Theresa let out a long sigh as she soaked in the feeling of him inside of her. She shook her head and wrapped her legs around his waist even tighter. "I couldn't say yes, even if I wanted to."

Ethan's tongue wiped away the tears on her cheeks and he pushed into her again. He watched her facial expressions with each thrust and made sure not to go too hard or too fast.

In her ear he whispered, "You are a part of me, Theresa. Forever."

Theresa turned her lips to his ear and breathed against the cartilage. She grabbed the backs of Ethan's shoulders and kissed his Adam's apple before speaking.

"And I'll love you forever."

As Ethan moved, his thrusts became increasingly more frantic. He kissed her forehead and his lips lingered against her skin.

"Forever," he sighed at her temple.

Everything was suddenly forgotten; the exhaustion, the hunger, the pain, the confusion, everything. The only thing either of them could feel was each other.

They moved against each other, pushing and pulling. Theresa's hand grew frantic against him; pressing on his lower back, sliding up to his shoulder blades, resting on his ribs.

"Forever," she sighed in echo.

He thrust deep and shallow, her hips reached up in search every pull back. She felt empty when he thrust away from her, and more than just physically. A soft mew of despair came from her lips every time.

"Forever," he breathed roughly.

Ethan's arms were growing tired, the muscles of his biceps straining with exertion. But still he moved against her, not allowing anything to come between them. His muscles began quivering and her sensitivity was reaching its peak.

"For… ev… er…"

It was mounting, shaking on the edge and Theresa's fingernails dug into Ethan's ribs when the sensation hit her. She closed her eyes tightly as the torrents crashed in her orgasm.

Ethan wasn't far behind, his movements becoming more and more frantic and shallow. Spent and barely able to keep the exhaustion at bay, Theresa watched him move above her in all his glory. The sweat built on his shoulders made him glint above her like a demigod. Ethan kissed her lips and sucked hard, his climax soon approaching. Theresa tightened around him and raised her legs higher.

"Forever, forever, forever!" Ethan yelled quickly.

Ethan's thrusting became spastic, quick and short and hard. His bottom lip quivered as he spilled into her.

Several minutes passed and they stayed pressed together, listening to their hearts calming in sync. Holding him close, Theresa rested her chin on his shoulder. They breathed roughly in each others' ears, silently making sure their bodies were real.

When she felt Ethan lean up, she closed her eyes, afraid to see him. Despite what they'd just shared, it wasn't enough. She suddenly understood that in getting one last memory with Ethan, she made a painful mistake. And she was afraid of letting him know how much she regretted it… or would.

"Theresa?" he asked. "Open your eyes."

She shook her head silently, cursing herself when tears leaked through her lashes despite her eyes being closed. She couldn't hide from him no matter how hard she tried, so she opened her eyes slowly, showing her broken and regretful sorrow. His expression fell when he saw she was crying again.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking. More tears fell from her eyes and slid down her temples into her hair. "I'm sorry for everything. It's all my fault."

She closed her eyes again and let the tears fall. Ethan, confused, rolled off of her and felt his heart flying in pain rather than desire. He stared at her, unsure of what to say. His heart broke with every tear she cried.

"God, Theresa, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have—"

Theresa quickly rolled to her side and pressed her fingers to his mouth, quieting his apology. "Shhh. Don't ruin this more than I already have. Just hold me."

Their naked limbs entwined and Ethan's feet caressed against hers. Theresa tried to hide her wince but Ethan's toes felt the gashes and bloody lines.

"I'm sorry about your feet."

Theresa smiled through her tears.

"It's not your fault." Ethan tried to continue but Theresa silenced him with her fingers against his lips. "They'll heal."

And with that, she curled against him and closed her eyes. Ethan watched her for several minutes and realized just what she had said. They'd heal—her feet would be fine and repair themselves. Her heart on the other hand…

Theresa's breathing fell rhythmic. Every exhale hit the skin of his chest like the brush of a feather. It tickled slightly, but he couldn't chase it off. He wanted the sensation of her life blowing on him. He wanted to know she was next to him, as close as she could possibly be. Ethan slid his hand up from her hip, stroking the soft skin he found on the way up to her cheek. His knuckles brushed over the angle of her cheekbone and watched as her eyelids began to twitch.

"I love you, Theresa," he whispered close to her ear.

Theresa nuzzled against his chest tighter and he smiled to himself. Ethan's hand slid back down the way he brought it to her cheek and pulled her body close. Just before he closed his eyes and drifted off, Ethan leaned down and kissed her forehead.

______

A few hours later, after the sun had finally set fully, the room was dark. Ethan opened his eyes and he turned his neck to find the window. A faint light was cast through the blinds, no doubt from the parking lot lamps. Ethan reached his hand up to rub his eyes, but it was caught against something solid next to him. As he turned his neck back around, he was surprised to find a peaceful brunette sleeping next to him.

Ethan blinked several times and sent thoughts of gratitude into the surrounding silence that it all hadn't been a dream. She really had come to him. She really had pushed her way through his walls to make him see the truth. And she looked so perfect sleeping next to him, her arms wrapped around his body.

Theresa took in a deep sigh and as she exhaled, her lips pushed out like a child attempting to blow a bubble. Ethan smiled to himself and he couldn't help brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. The corner of her mouth turned up slightly and he knew that he somehow had broken through her unconsciousness. This time, instead of using his hand, Ethan caressed her cheek with his lips. The corner of Theresa's lip turned up even more.

Ethan continued to watch her, relishing in the features he could stare at for the rest of his life. Even with her eyes closed, with her face in a peaceful still, she was extraordinarily beautiful to him. The way her lashes fell over her cheekbones, the curvature of her soft lips, the line of her nose, the arch of her brows, even the angle of her jaw were perfect.

And Ethan had to mentally scold himself. He closed his eyes and the memories of his past several days flooded him. Every image of Mariel made him want to take a whip to his back.

He deserved nothing less, he thought. Theresa was a part of him, he knew that. He'd always know that. And he tried to kill it by giving himself to another woman.

God how he hated himself for what he'd done.

The day he'd written Theresa the letter that was like a dagger into his own soul, he later called Mariel and asked to meet her for dinner. Without hesitation, she'd agreed. The outfit she wore that night was anything but modest, no doubt a last attempt to secure her prey, as it were. As she walked to the table, she sauntered over, crossing her legs deliberately over and over again to make use of the extremely high slit in her skirt.

Ethan was taken aback at how forward she had been. When she began massaging his calf with her foot, he was shocked. When her foot began running up his leg before finally resting between his legs, he wanted to run for the exit.

Mariel was a woman that had always gotten what she wanted. She wanted money, she married the next wealthiest man in Harmony and secured her fortune. During her divorce, she wanted Ethan and he'd put off all her advances because he still waited outside of a window for the woman he'd never stop loving.

But all of that came to a stop that day on the cliffs.

Ethan couldn't go a minute without thinking of Theresa. He knew he was going to go crazy if he didn't act to distract himself. The first thought he had was attached to a vicious blonde woman that would no doubt enjoy distracting him.

Being with Mariel was something that he didn't understand. It was easy, mechanical. She tried and did things he never would have thought of. But she was no Theresa. Her body was different—surgically enhanced. At certain angles, if the light was on, he was still able to see the silver lines under her arms and around her hips.

All he could do was close his eyes and think of Theresa in order to respond the way he needed. And it suddenly made him feel like an animal.

The thought of using Theresa's memory to be with another woman disgusted him. Staring at her now made him realize that he was only abusing himself and disrespecting her. It would never be possible to replace her with another woman. And it would never be possible to use sex to hide the pain that was sure to come. Sure, it would keep the pain back for a while. But when it did come back to him, it would hit much harder.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind flooded with memories of Mariel's body and memories of Theresa's. He hated that they were so close together, mimicking each other. He hated that he used Theresa with Mariel. And though she was somewhat evil, Ethan even felt remorse for using Mariel the way he did.

Movement against his chest brought him out of his reverie and he opened his eyes. Theresa was still against him, her lips close enough to kiss his skin. Again he traced her cheek with the back of his hand and she snuggled closer.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered against her ear.

He apologized for what he'd done to her, for what he'd done to Mariel, for his lies, his coldness, his mistaken ability to stay away.

A part of him knew that he couldn't stay away from her forever. He even knew that in a few months, if she hadn't found him, he would have gone back on his hands and knees begging to have some part in her life. Because the truth was, he couldn't live without her. He couldn't live not knowing where she was or what she was doing.

She was a part of him. Forever.

The sun was still sleeping and Ethan knew that when the light of a new day shined, they would be starting fresh. He would explain what he'd done with Mariel as only an attempt to push Theresa out his mind. He would explain that he could never really stay away from her. He would try to live with knowing that Theresa's child was his brothers.

He would love her. Nothing was more important with that.

Ethan moved his hand down Theresa's side again, simply feeling the softness of her skin. The lines and bones of her body were erotic, somehow.

"Ethan…," she breathed against his chest.

Ethan smiled to himself because he knew she must have been dreaming about him.

He leaned down to her lips and kissed her, eager to feel her mouth against his. Her lips were warm, soft, and still dry from not having licked them all night.

Suddenly her lips pushed forward against his slightly. Theresa was waking up.

Ethan ran his hand back down her naked side and watched as her skin came to life under his fingertips. He said nothing and pulled her as close as he possibly could, kissing her temple and rubbing his thumb across one of her nipples.

"Mmm," Theresa breathed as she opened her eyes.

Their eyes met as Theresa looked up at him. The stare locked and Ethan's thumb didn't stop stroking across her nipple, even after it hardened into a tight peak.

They were silent, their eyes sending each other messages. Ethan's fingers pinched and Theresa's eyes closed briefly as a rocket of sensation hit her. She pulled her bottom lip under her teeth and sucked in a breath. Ethan's eyes darkened.

"How long have you been up?" Theresa asked him.

Ethan stared down at his fingers, watched as her skin responded and hardened to his touch.

"About twenty minutes," he admitted.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

Ethan's hand spread across her breast and palmed the flesh, his fingers caressing her skin.

"I was watching you sleep." Theresa turned to him with questions in her eyes. "I was thinking about how beautiful you are… and how much I love you."

Theresa's face softened. Without responding, Theresa lifted her hand to his face and moved over his eyebrows. Theresa's fingers traced and smoothed over every detail of his face; his nose, his eyelashes, his lips, his cheekbones, his forehead, the freckles that were barely visible, the chicken pox scar on his right cheek, the stubble growing on his jaw line, the beginnings of crow's feet, the hairline at his ears…

Ethan watched her study him and traced over her face with his eyes, etching every detail into his memory recesses. Their eyes met and both were at a loss for words. Theresa lifted her head forward to him, waiting for him to meet her. Without giving it a second thought, Ethan put his lips to hers and kissed her.

The way their bodies pressed together, Theresa's legs wrapped around his waist on impulse and Ethan rolled over her again. Not even thinking, acting on innate animal instinct, Ethan pushed into her deeply, completely losing himself inside of her. Their kiss only broke when Theresa threw her head back in a deep moan, her surprise mixed with an overwhelming pleasurable pain.

Ethan's hips stilled as he looked down at her. He mentally scolded himself for acting the way he had.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered slowly. "Because I don't know how."

The shock of him invading her body so quickly and without warning passed and she was able to focus on his words just as he was beginning to pull away from her.

"I don't want you to," she breathed out roughly.

Ethan stilled again, halfway out of her body. His eyes pressed into hers, looking for any sign of doubt or worry.

"Are you sure?"

Theresa fought the lump in her throat and ran her hands along his naked sides as she nodded. Not saying anything else, Ethan thrust fully into her. Her head fell back with a soft moan. Again he thrust in and out, stilling as he entered her. Just as he pushed inside of her again, his pelvic bone hit her aroused and engorged clitoris. He felt something against him, but it was Theresa's head that fell back. Ethan thrust inside of her again and watched her response, growing even harder when he saw how much pleasure she was receiving from him.

As Ethan thrust in harder, the familiar feeling from hours before filled her chest: relief. The physical pain was a distraction from knowing that she would inevitably have to leave him and never feel him again.

A sharp whisper fell from Theresa's lips but Ethan was so focused on what he was feeling that he didn't hear what she said. He leaned down close to hear ear as he thrust in again.

"What was that?"

She pulled at his back with her nails and put her lips against his ear lobe. "Fuck me… hard...," she whispered slowly.

Ethan obliged and Theresa's neck arched up. Her abdomen was already in pain, and the internal hit on her cervix sent the already sensitive nerves into an angry frenzy. She was already sore from making love to him hours before, and it was getting stronger. She needed the physical pain to displace the emotional one. Every thrust hurt slightly, but in that pain, she was able to forget what was making her cry.

"Harder," she repeated, louder.

Again his pelvic bone hit her exposed clitoris and she tightened around him, causing a groan to release from his throat. Ethan pounded faster and harder, both of them moaning into the air. The pleasure and pain were mixed for Theresa and she gripped Ethan's hips and brought him into her even deeper. Their bodies moved together faster and harder until Theresa's nails pressed into his arms and Ethan released.

Ethan's chest was spastic as he leaned down and kissed Theresa full on the mouth, his tongue probing past her lips.

It was coming, Theresa knew. That moment, the pivotal moment in their lives, it was looming ahead of them and Theresa knew there was no denying it and no putting it off.

Sure, she could snuggle into his arms again and drift off to sleep for a few more hours before the sun rose for another day. They could hold each other and kiss each other and feel each other and make love a few more times, but it would never be enough. She would always want more. She would always need more.

Ethan rolled onto his back and tried to catch his breath. Theresa felt the sudden emptiness and throbbing where he'd just occupied her body. The emotional pain was coming back and she knew she had to act quickly before she lost her will. Rolling on her side and easing up, Theresa bent to grab her clothes from the floor and began putting them back on.

"Theresa, what are you doing?"

Theresa said nothing and pulled her bra around her before she clipped it on and swung it into place. She slid her arms through her blouse quickly and buttoned it hastily, probably mismatching a few buttons and holes.

When she slipped her vest on, she didn't button it and stood quickly in search of her pants.

Ethan sat up. "Theresa?"

Theresa stood up and slipped into her underwear and pants on quickly, still without saying a word or turning back to Ethan. She stepped over Ethan's discarded towel and she couldn't help remembering how his towel and the shirt he'd left in his closet were the same color.

For a brief instant, the same pain she felt in his apartment, in his closet came rushing back into her chest. It was extremely painful to begin imagining what it would be like to live like that every night. To know that she would be crying herself to sleep in an empty bed was almost powerful enough to make her reconsider what she had to do.

Theresa began walking towards the door when Ethan stood from the bed and rushed to her.

"Theresa?" He pulled her shoulders to face him. "What are you doing? You can't just leave!"

She was crying again. "I have to, Ethan."

He shook his head spastically and stopped her from turning away again. "No, no, you don't." He pushed, wanting her to understand him. "Stay."

Theresa's arm crossed over her torso and gained her strength to look up at him. "It was a last memory, Ethan…" She hated having to say the words and worse, she hated seeing the pain in his eyes. "Right?"

Ethan wanted to say no. He wanted to hold her in his arms every night. He knew he loved her, he knew he always would. But he didn't know what to do. He had started to believe that he could make sense of everything, that he could be with her despite who the father of her child was. But the determination in her eyes made him doubt himself.

Something in his eyes fell away. Exhaling sharply, Ethan nodded slowly. "Right."

Theresa tightened her lips at him in thanks for agreeing and helping to find the strength she needed to walk away. With a small smile, Theresa made to turn away from him. But Ethan caught her hand and brought her palm to his naked chest.

"Do you feel that?"

The pounding of his heart beat through his chest wall and pulsed softly against her hand.

"It's yours. It always has been."

Tears fell from her eyes despite her best efforts to control them. Her lip shook as she stepped forward and laid a kiss on his chest where he'd placed her hand. Her hand fell from his chest completely and went to her other wrist.

Ethan watched as she unclasped the golden bracelet and reached for his hand. Theresa slowly dripped the chain into his palm and closed his fingers over it. Ethan stared at her fingers over his and he desperately wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"It was a gift," was all he could think to say. "I want you to keep it."

Theresa kept his hand from opening up and giving the bracelet back to her. It was true, she wanted to keep it. She wanted to look at the bracelet everyday and know the significance behind it and the love she shared with Ethan. But she couldn't do that.

If she had to look at the golden sun everyday and know that out in the world somewhere was a man that she would give up her soul for, she'd fall apart. She couldn't do it.

Without hesitation, Theresa walked forward and kissed his lips sweetly. Ethan was surprised by her action and his arms immediately went to her waist to pull her close, to attempt to deepen the kiss. But she pulled away quickly.

"Goodbye."

Theresa opened the door and the soft light of a new day filtered in over them both. She squinted and turned back to him over her shoulder. Their eyes locked and she silently gave him her love, her heart, her apology, and her farewell.

"Please," Ethan begged, his hand reaching out.

Theresa stared down at his hand and considered it for a long beat. If she took his hand and went back into his bed, she would be safe. But for how long? How long before he decided that he didn't want to be the father of Fox's child? How long before he began doubting her? How long before they would be unhappy? How long before he'd break her heart and leave her shattered on the floor?

Theresa closed her and eyes and tears leaked over her cheeks and down to her chin. Without another look at Ethan, she pulled the door closed behind her and left Ethan standing alone in the middle of his hotel room.

As soon as she closed the door, she felt like breaking down in a puddle on the asphalt. She stared out at the limo across the lot and wondered how she would ever get that far. She knew Ethan was only a few feet away from her behind a closed door, and yet she wasn't sure what to do.

The sun was coming up in the distance and the sky was getting brighter and brighter; the dawn of her new life.

Theresa slid against the door and fell the ground with a thud, not even minding how hard she fell. Finally, her strength completely gone, confusion hit her and she wondered how she ever expected to live without Ethan. The tears were coming, but they weren't alone. Her chest began shaking, her breaths uneven and shallow. She was hyperventilating. And she was crying at the same time.

She cried out into the early morning air with a loud and harsh moan. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Theresa wrapped her arms around her legs and her face fell. The tears fell in a fiery blaze, but she didn't care how much it burned. She needed to cry, so she cried.

She needed to die, but she couldn't.

Harder and harder she cried and she wasn't sure if she would ever be able to live normally again. Every fiber in her being was begging her to turn back to the man that was just through the door.

"Theresa!" she heard screamed through the door.

Adrenaline pumped and she jumped to her aching feet quickly. Just as she ran against the black parking lot to her limo, she vaguely heard the opening of the door and Ethan yelling her name.

______

Theresa walked through the door to Ethan's apartment and immediately regretted it. Not only was the place familiar, but his smell lingered and it made the memories that much more powerful.

His smell was stronger, not only surrounding her, but on her. Walking through the living room, a strong pain was hitting her abdomen again. The sun was hitting strongly through the large windows and bathed the empty furniture in light.

Ironic, she thought.

A new day, a new sun, a new life. Only, she wanted none of them. She wanted old days for an old life.

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself and wrapped her hand over her belly as she walked to the bedroom. Theresa exhaled and prayed for the strength to live through the pain. She deserved much worse for what she'd done, she knew.

When she got to the bedroom, she made the mistake of avoiding the bed as the first time she had when she entered his apartment. She fell back against the wall as she stared at his bed. Too many memories spent in it, too many new memories spent in a bed like it.

And his smell was all over her… lingering like a plaguing wound.

She leaned against the wall softly and whispered to herself encouraging words that would take her to the bed. Fighting through the agony, she forced herself to breathe through her mouth so Ethan's surrounding smell wouldn't egg the pain on.

Theresa laid down on the bed, wincing in the escalating pain that she could no longer fight off. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tightly as she curled up in the center of the bed. The old shirt was still there waiting for her and she pulled it up to her face. She didn't inhale his scent this time, though. Rather, she simply wanted to be close to something that had touched his skin.

Not able to fight it anymore, the most recent memories made with Ethan came crashing down on her. She hugged the pillow tighter, taking in his scent and moaned. The pain built to an unbearable force.

Theresa fell asleep due to exhaustion with a restless mind. In the following hours, she writhed and woke screaming in a sweat. And again she would fade into unconsciousness. For the entire day, she faded in and out, screaming and sweating, sleeping and shaking.

Hours later, when a new sun had risen and its light made Theresa's eye open, she felt like she was dying. Her mind was screaming, her body was weak, her torso was throbbing beyond all comprehension, her heart was broken, her eyes were burning, her throat was parched.

She laid in her pain for another few hours before she finally summoned enough strength to lift herself to sit up. When she did, she screamed yet again.

She had been sleeping in a puddle of her own blood… all alone.

______

The sound of beeping machines filled her ears. Her eyes fluttered open finally and she was surprised to see that she was staring up at a strange colored tiled ceiling. It appeared to be made of Styrofoam with little craters all over the place.

Theresa breathed in through her nostrils and she tried to get her thoughts oriented. As she turned her head, she saw the offending machine making the strange beeping. It had numbers on it that her focusing eyes couldn't quite make out just yet. Some were green, some were red, there might have even been some lines in there somewhere.

Her entire body ached, she soon realized. From her pounding head all the way down to her throbbing feet. She turned her head to the other side and could hear the scratchy sound of her hair against the cheap pillowcase.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Fox asked quietly.

Though Theresa was startled to see him, she was even more startled to see that he was also in a cheap hospital gown. Seated in a wheelchair, his leg was hoisted up in a cast.

"Fox?"

Her voice was scratchy and hoarse. When she said his name, Fox reached for her hand and took it between both of his. She then noticed that he wore a cast on his right wrist as well.

"What happened to you?" she asked him, her voice still just as scratchy.

Fox looked down to his cast and flexed his fingers and tried to hide the wince that crossed his face.

"Oh…" Fox paused as memories of trashing her office came into his brain. "Minor disagreement," he admitted. "Stupid."

Theresa watched him scrunch his eyebrows and she knew he was lying to her, at least not telling her the whole truth.

"What about your leg?"

Fox knew he couldn't hide that. And truthfully, he wasn't even sure when or where he'd actually caused the most damage to it. When he'd jumped from the stairs to the floor of the foyer after Whitney, he felt an instant pain in his leg that caused him to limp afterward. But then in Theresa's office, that was when the pain became unbearable and he couldn't even move his leg after that.

"The doctor said I fractured my tibia and my talus bone or something. Not a big deal." As if to reassure her of his nonchalance, he wriggled his naked toes at her and again tried to hide the pain from crossing his face.

Theresa stared at him confused. "How?"

Fox wanted to tell her, but thought better of mentioning anything that involved Whitney for the moment. And going through her office to find Ethan's letter was also probably something she didn't want or need to hear either.

"Never mind about me. How are you feeling?"

Theresa internally surveyed herself and still gauged that she was aching all over.

"What happened to me?"

Fox's face fell into an apologetic calm. His hands tightened against hers and she could feel the rough texture of his cast against her palm.

"Harold brought you in a few hours ago." Fox trailed off and lingered in silence for a brief moment. "You were at Ethan's apartment… alone."

Then Theresa remembered. She remembered going to Ethan, being with him and feeling alive and loved in his arms. She remembered the hotel room and the black parking lot, the rising sun and the pain that sucked the breath out of her lungs. The pain had been so bad that she felt as if she were going to die.

Maybe she did.

"What happened?" she asked him, a minute earlier than her own brain connected the pieces.

Fox fell completely silent and refused to meet her eyes, unable to answer her.

"Fox?"

Theresa was beginning to panic and tried to sit up in her bed. Suddenly, the pain in her abdomen cascaded down her legs and up into her chest. She was crippled back down and she turned to him violently.

"What happened?!"

"You… you had a… the doctor said… the baby…"

Then she remembered the pain, the cramping, the blood…

But it had just been an ulcer… hadn't it?

Just an ulcer. A bad one.

"I know," she whispered when Fox couldn't say the word aloud.

"I'm so sorry, Theresa."

Though Fox turned away quickly, Theresa could hear in his voice that he was crying. She turned her head away from him and looked out the window into the distance. It had to be midday and she was suddenly confused at how much time she'd lost all together. She couldn't remember what day it was, what time it was, or how long it had been since she'd last seen her husband.

The memories came back, the pain creeping into her spinal cord.

Her baby, her strength, was gone.

Tears leaked through the corner of her eye and fell into her ear. But she couldn't summon enough energy to reach her hand up and brush the moisture away.

Fox's hand squeezed hers. His thumb rubbed circles over the lines in her palm.

"You know, it's weird… I feel like I lost something. Like something was taken from me. And I don't even know if I was the father."

Theresa turned her head towards him just in time to see a dying smirk as his eyes cast down, unable to meet hers in shame for bringing it up at such a time. Fox pinched his eyes closed and Theresa swallowed forcefully to find the clarity to speak.

"It was yours…"

* * *

**A/N:**

**BTW, I've never had a miscarriage (never been preggers, thank godddddd!), but I researched miscarriages and I read that they can last several days sometimes and massive cramping can take place. Of course, I played up on the sometimes. Besides, I once worked with a girl that had a miscarriage but literally confused it for an ulcer for a few days before she started bleeding. Though she wasn't in Theresa-like extreme pain. Dramatic effect.**

**Anywhos, millions of author's notes later, again, I must thank all of you for your undying support of this story some five years later. I'm amazed with every review and touched with every comment.**

**Until next chapter, all!  
Muah,  
Sophia.**

**P.S.  
According to my current outline, we have about two chapters left and an epilogue. We'll see if that sticks.**


	13. Collateral Damage

Once again, I outdo myself. I thought the previous chapter would be the longest, I lied. You'll need an even comfier chair for this one.

Enjoy!

* * *

_**Chapter 12: **_**Collateral Damage**

Fox's mind felt like a complete blank. He tried to conjure some kind of thought. All he got in return for his attempt was a silent echo going through his skull.

Beep.

He looked at Theresa's face and she could only stare back at him. He knew that she had said something, he'd seen her mouth move in formation of words. But for some odd reason, he couldn't remember what she'd just said.

Beep.

Theresa continued staring at him, her brow was crinkling in the middle of her eyes, a small wrinkle beginning in her still-youthful skin.

Beep.

Fox looked over at Theresa and noted the ugly and cheap hospital gown that seemed to have the terrible excuse for a flower print on it. Some were blue, some were faded to almost gray from having been tossed in the hospital washing machine so many times. Long, thin plastic tubes reached from the inside of her elbow, sealed with a thick white tape, up to a silver pole standing on the side of the small bed that angled upwards. The square machine continued its annoying rhythm.

Beep.

"Fox?"

Theresa's voice ended his delirious haze. The sound reached into his ears again, almost as if he'd been plunged into an ocean and the sound flooded against his eardrums.

"Fox?"

This time her hand shook his arm softly, shaking his entire body and attempting to jolt him back to reality like a car battery in need of a boost.

"Fox, can you hear me?"

The echoes in Fox's brain shuffled back and forth and he desperately tried to focus on one of them. They passed in the darkness of his brain like small pieces of electric light. In the strangeness of his own mind, he reached out to a fleeting piece of light and listened.

_It was yours…_

His mouth hung open at the jaw and saliva began to collect between his front teeth and his bottom lip. Like a small pool, he could have swum in the slack that gathered. A small bit leaked over his lip and hit his chin, thrusting him back to reality and back to sitting in front of the woman in a hospital, half broken.

"What did you say?" Fox asked quickly.

Theresa stared at him, the wrinkle still present between her brows.

Fox's tongue poked between his lips to wipe away the saliva that was spilling from his still-open mouth. After it was gone, he licked again and again, rubbing the tender skin with the rough underside of his tongue.

Theresa stared into his eyes, her own becoming softer and more concerned. The words she'd just spoken were still fresh on her lips; she could still taste the bitter acidity of their formation on her palate.

The last few minutes replayed in Theresa's mind.

_The sorrow in Fox's voice at the news of losing the baby, a baby he wasn't even sure was biologically his, was too much for Theresa to bear at a time when her emotional wounds were still too fresh to deal with her newest tragedy. _

_She knew that she had to tell him. It was only fair, it was only right. He was the father of the baby that was now gone. He deserved to know the truth. _

_ A demonic portion of her brain considered the possibility of never telling him, of continuing life with his ignorance and playing on what he supposed was hers as well. _Would it matter,_ she asked herself. _What good would it do? It would only hurt him more.

_ In split seconds, different possibilities and different outcomes swirled in her mind. As she considered never telling him for justification of protecting him, she quickly realized that it was selfish. She put herself in his position for a second. _

_ For her to love something and not even know if she should… and then to lose it…. _

_ She couldn't control herself as she turned towards the window and looked out to the setting sun and the orange horizon. She stared at a bird as it flew in the distance and she quickly attributed the soaring to her unborn child. _

_ A tear leaked down her face, sliding down the skin that had come to know tears so well. Her hand was too tired to even reach up to wipe it away. She let the tear fall down her face slowly, silently. _

_ She had to do it. _

_ Suddenly she felt Fox's hand grip her own, his familiar touch against her skin. His thumb moved over her palm, tracing the lines as if he were reading her future. It was almost as if he were begging her to tell him the truth with his gesture. Then:_

_ "You know, it's weird… I feel like I lost something. Like something was taken from me. And I don't even know if I was the father."_

_ Theresa looked back to Fox, her strength nonexistent and still somehow flooding into her veins now that she needed it most. She turned in time to see something resembling a smirk on his face in attempt to mask the pain he felt. And then his eyes fell, ashamed. _

_ Theresa's heart broke for him. She hated that he was trying to be strong for her when he was feeling just as much as she was, if not more. She remembered his face at the mansion the last time she'd see him. She remembered how he'd begged her to give him the family he'd always dreamed of. The guilt came in sharp and painful waves. _

_ Fox had always wanted a family. He'd always wanted children for penance of his parents' mistakes. He wanted to shower his children with love and acceptance. He wanted to walk them to school everyday and make them bagged lunches and practice playing catch and even pass on some of his recipes. _

_ Fox pinched his eyes with his fingers as if he was able to see Theresa's memories and was trying to block out his own hopes and dreams. _

_ Just as the words were building in her throat, Theresa silently begged his forgiveness for needing to tell him. She hoped he wouldn't be too angry with her. She hoped that he could be strong. She hoped that he wouldn't blame her. She hoped he wouldn't hate her. _

"_It was yours…"_

_

* * *

_

The shock in his face the moment she'd said the words still replaying in his mind was still there. Fox's eyes flickered to the window behind Theresa and the orange sun reflected in his irises.

"Mine?" he said suddenly. "Did you say it was mine?"

Theresa continued to stare at him in concern and worry. She studied his face and waited for any delayed reaction; more delayed than the one he had already given her. His eyes danced to the window behind her and then over to the plain mortar-bricked wall.

"Fox?"

Theresa shook his shoulder again and finally he looked at her. His eyes seemed to swim, lost. Slowly, as he looked at her, his eyes began to fill. Heavier and heavier, the barriers of his eyes couldn't contain the tears and spilled. He blinked and the tears fell. His face didn't contort into any shape of pain or agony or anger or anything. Tears fell as if without feeling, as if his eyes were simply overacting.

But they weren't.

"Mine?" he said again.

Theresa moved her hand from his shoulder to his face. She cupped his cheek in her palm and genuinely hated herself for telling him the truth. A part of her knew she should have kept it to herself. For the rest of her life, her own torment in knowing and keeping the truth from him would be her punishment for putting him in the situation in the first place.

And yet she was causing him even more pain.

"I'm so sorry." It hit her vaguely that she had just echoed his own words to her as he apologized for her loss. But now he had lost something as well, really lost something. He lost something that was his.

Fox's mouth opened and closed again and again as he swallowed words that he wanted to say, needed to say. His jaw quivered, jolted back and forth. His tongue kept licking at his lips, wetting and pushing out onto his dry skin. He could feel the beginning of a rash at the base of his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

Theresa closed her eyes at his question and hated herself that it had to exist. But she knew she deserved not only the pain of the question, the embarrassment, but also much worse.

Theresa nodded and told herself to stop feeling helpless. She looked over at Fox's broken body and felt guilty somehow. She wasn't sure how he'd hurt himself, but she somehow felt that it was her fault in a way. If not directly, she knew she had a part in his injuries. Fox wasn't a man that went to bars to get drunk and casually begin pummeling the locals. He also wasn't into boxing or anything violent for that matter.

"The doctor said April 17th."

Fox let the date twist around in his mind until it took the form of a memory.

"Our anniversary," he said simply. The tone of his voice didn't go up or down.

Theresa said nothing and Fox could see her nod her head through the corner of his eye.

He licked his lips again and pushed away the mental scold for causing a red line to form under his bottom lip. He didn't care if he made a red hole in his chin.

"Does Ethan know?"

His question caught her off guard and she could swear that she felt her eyes spin in their sockets. The word wanted to escape her mouth but she clutched her hands around her throat in an attempt to keep it inside.

Theresa stared at Fox, his broken expression. She hated that she had to continue hurting him. She'd already hurt him beyond anything forgivable, and she was only going to continue and continue. When did it ever stop?

"Yes," she whispered simply, her eyes looking down and away from him.

Somehow Fox had already known the answer before he heard it. His face fell immediately at the thought.

"Why did you tell him before me?"

Theresa didn't miss the crack in his voice on his last word. She knew he wanted to cry. She knew he needed to cry after everything she'd done to him. She just didn't know how to stop herself from continuing to make him hurt.

Theresa looked back up to him, this time wanting to look in his eyes so he could see how much she hated having to hurt him. Only this time, his eyes were down.

"He picked me up from the hospital a few days ago. It just… came out. I'm sorry."

Fox nodded his understanding.

"I should have come to get you," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Theresa tried not to think about what had transpired after Ethan had picked her up that day.

Cliffs.

Dust.

Tires.

Collapse.

Her hand instinctively went to wrap around her belly and she stopped herself mid-gesture. She felt even more hollow inside when she realized she no longer had anything to cradle; no more source of strength.

Fox remembered the day that she had come back to their house, the day she walked in on him and Whitney together in bed. That was the day that he'd abandoned his wife for another woman.

That was when he realized that he had been mistaken.

All along, he had been thinking that she came back to him on her own, without the knowledge of the baby's father. He believed that she finally realized that she could be happier with him rather than with Ethan.

He was a fool.

Ethan had picked her up that day. Ethan knew the truth. And she came back only to leave running in tears.

Theresa had only returned because Ethan left her and for no other reason.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

Theresa was shocked when the deep silence was broken by his sudden question.

"Were you going to tell me I was the father? Or were you just going to go on living like you didn't know? With Ethan?"

Theresa shook her head quickly. "No, Fox, it wasn't like that."

"What was it, then?"

They looked into each others eyes. Fox's were hard, intense. And Theresa was begging herself not to cry anymore. The burn that existed behind her corneas was getting to be too great and much too hard to ignore.

"I'm sorry," Fox said suddenly, breathing a long sigh. "It's just a lot to take in."

They were silent for a very long time. The minutes went by, neither really moving. Theresa turned her vision back to the window and she noticed that the sun was gone. Another day was gone. And another day would continue to go by. And another and another and another.

"Theresa…?"

The hesitation in Fox's voice startled Theresa. She had never heard his voice shake before, not like that. It was as if he were suddenly scared of her.

She looked up to him, slightly afraid of what he would say next.

"Why… why were you at Ethan's apartment?"

In a way, Theresa should have expected his question. Only, she hadn't. She should have known that he would ask questions about Ethan and her relationship status with him. But she hadn't prepared herself for it or the concept of grasping the fact that it was truly over now.

"I…"

The letter that he'd found in her office came to mind. He remembered reading it and wishing death and destruction upon Ethan for what it must had done to Theresa. He knew that it wasn't easy for her to read his words. And worse, he'd seen the smudged ink where her tears had hit the paper. He knew that the paper was nothing but a strong source of her agony.

And yet a part of him wanted to know the extent of that agony, the truth behind her fall. He also wanted to know what the letter meant concerning Ethan's role in her life… now and for the rest of their lives.

"The truth, please."

Theresa couldn't blame Fox for being so hard in demanding the truth from her. She'd been lying to him for far too long. He wanted the truth and it was only fair.

"After… He… When I…"

Theresa tried desperately to tell the story. But each word that escaped was like a blade inside her throat. She wanted to say his name, she wanted to explain what had happened the day she insisted on finding out how far along she was… but that day was so full of pain from all angles, she wasn't sure where to begin, if there was any part of the story without extreme pain attached to it.

"He left," she whispered, her eyes again falling to her nails.

Fox stared at her, expecting her answer to have more significance and more meaning that it did. But nothing else was said and he was still confused and still without an honest answer.

"What do you mean he left? He left you there alone? Is that way you called Harold?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No. He left me…"

A part of her wished that Ethan had left her in his bed and simply walked away to run an errand without explanation. She wished it were that simple. But it wasn't. It never was.

And again the memories of the cliffs came. The cliffs. The dust. The tires. The fall.

"I don't—"

"After he picked me up," she began explaining, "we went to the Harmony Cliffs."

Fox winced at her answer. He cursed himself internally for allowing himself access to hearing the gruesome details. He knew the next words would describe their rendezvous on the cliffs, the waves and the wind. He knew that somewhere in their lovemaking on the grass, she would let slip the fact that she was carrying her husband's child and Ethan would get so startled, so angry that the child wasn't his, that he would leave her. And that would eventually leave her to where she had been found—alone.

"Before we got there, I'd made my decision," she continued. "I didn't feel like I had any other choice."

Fox realized that at the time that she was in Ethan's arms surrounded by an ocean breeze, he was forcing himself on the helpless Whitney. It made bright yellow bile rise up in his throat.

"I knew I couldn't look at our child and not think of you when I was with him…"

Theresa held herself back from saying how much she wished she could, how desperately she wished for the future Ethan had made her see. The memories and images still dragged around inside of her painfully. The morning waking in Ethan's arms, his wet whispers in her ears, the way his strong hands felt against her skin, the breeze of an open window on the sheets, the tender movements, the children running to share their bed after the passion had passed…

Her throat closed on its own, a strong pain that wasn't able to be filtered through willpower had forced itself into a ball just above her lungs.

"He didn't understand." She paused and continued to pick at her nails. "Then he left…"

Fox wondered briefly what had happened after that. He wanted to know if Ethan had driven her somewhere and then thrown her out of the car in his anger. Had he pushed her through an open door while the car was still moving? Did she roll around on gravel or grass after the impact? Did it contribute to the miscarriage of his child? Or, did Ethan perhaps just leave her on the cliffs by herself? Did she walk back to town? How did she make it back to the mansion?

"And then you saw…"

Theresa looked up to him and saw the pain in his eyes, the torment. She knew at that moment that he'd never meant to hurt her, never meant to exact revenge, never meant to do anything to jeopardize their marriage as she had. What had happened with Whitney, Theresa finally understood, was an accident.

"It's okay... It's—it's in the past."

Fox looked at her and thanked her with a sincere expression. Though she'd cheated on him willingly, he somehow felt that his crime was far worse.

Theresa straightened her back and continued with her story. "I had to make a choice…"

Fox pretended not to notice the way her voice cracked when she spoke, the agony of the truth still cutting into her psyche. He looked up to her and pretended not to see the distant and regretful look in her eyes. He didn't want to focus on how much Ethan's leaving had affected her. But he also knew that no matter how much he pretended, it was still there looking him in the face.

"He said he would leave my life…" There was a long pause and Theresa turned to the window again, almost as if wishing she were outside looking for Ethan, in his arms.

Again Fox remembered the letter he'd found crumpled in Theresa's office. The letter had been thrown on the floor in a ball by the hands that had made prints on the glass.

_You made your choice…_

"I tried to find him, but I couldn't. I went to his apartment to look for him… but he was gone. I just slept there a few times."

Theresa's throat tightened and she had to force herself to breathe.

The latest images of Ethan were crawling into her head. She began seeing him shirtless answering his hotel room door. She could see the fold of the towel at his waist, the way it dipped just below the bends of his hipbones. His taste, his smell, his touch… She thought about the way she felt sleeping in his arms only to have him wake her up with physical prowess. She looked down to her naked wrist when she remembered slipping her bracelet into his hand and running away.

For a second, she wished she could have the bracelet back. She hated not having it as a reminder of a time when they were much happier. The morning he'd surprised her with breakfast and a deeply meaningful piece of jewelry had been an awakening of sorts. There, that morning, in her bedroom, they had promised to love each other forever with both actions and words. And the bracelet was an everlasting symbol of that love.

And now it was gone.

Theresa looked out the window again and the sky silently taunted her. Just like the bracelet's charm, the sun had truly set and darkness spread over her life.

Jolting her back to reality, Fox took the hand that had habitually grown accustomed to the beautiful golden sun charm and rubbed it soothingly.

"Theresa, I know—"

"It's over," she interrupted him. "Ethan and I, it's over between us. For good."

Fox's head snapped up. The confused expression on his face wasn't lost on Theresa.

"I don't understand," Fox blurted out. "If there's no more baby, then… why…?"

Theresa once again hated his question. All his questions continued to remind her how much of a monster she'd been to her husband. She knew she deserved much more for what she'd done, but having to endure it was hard.

But focusing on his question, Theresa had to admit that she often found herself wondering the same thing. Even with the baby, why did she and Ethan suddenly agree that it would be best for them to separate forever? She had no answer, and she didn't want to think about it any more. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted her decision.

Instead of answering Fox's lingering question, Theresa could only look at her fingers, hiding her eyes from the probing ones of her husband. A part of her was afraid that if she answered the question, she would only find herself with the renewed need to run back to Ethan. And she was afraid it would be her undoing.

Theresa sighed a long and hard breath, her agonized decision still lingering in her soul.

"It's… it's over, Fox."

Though it didn't answer his question, it was enough somehow.

"Theresa…? What are you saying?"

His eyes were suddenly brimmed with a shiny innocence, a wide-eyed hope that Theresa couldn't ignore. Before she had a chance to answer, Fox grabbed her hand in both of his, ignoring the pain in his wrist when he bent it against the new cast.

"Theresa…?" Her name fell from his lips with a reverent sound of worship that pushed her guilt even further.

Theresa didn't know how to respond and she wasn't sure she wanted to. The words stuck in her throat were just as unsure and jumbled as her thoughts and feelings of being forever separated from Ethan.

* * *

Chris was going out of his mind. With the Royal Couple out of commission, it was up to him to filter their phone calls, reschedule appointments, and respond to memos and emails. The phone never stopped ringing, the emails never stopped coming, and panic was quickly spreading throughout the empire.

"Crane Industries, Theresa Crane's office, please hold"—he pushed on another blinking red light on his phone—"Crane Industries, Theresa Crane's office, please hold"—another red light was pushed— "Hello, Crane Industries, Theresa Crane's office, how can I direct your call?"

Chris spun around in his chair in search of his Post-Its. They were buried somewhere under the pile of papers on his desk. It made him anxious that he couldn't find his favorite note-taking tool. Trying to listen to the rambling of the disgruntled delivery man on the phone, Chris reached for his uncapped Sharpie and took notes on the back of a discarded Chinese restaurant menu.

"Yes, sir," he said, nodding patronizingly, "I'll let her know when she's back in the office."

Chris had to indulge several more minutes of aggravated yelling while making promises and apologizing for his bosses. Finally, it seemed like the man was relenting and Chris took his quick opportunity to bid the man a pleasant rest of the day.

Just as he put the phone back, he let out a sigh or relief at the sudden moment of silence. A migraine was beginning to build and his temples began throbbing. He knew his job was going to be the death of him for sure. But in the meantime, he supposed he could always collect a nice workman's comp from the wealthiest name in New England.

Then the elevator dinged. And the phone began ringing again. Before he was able to look at who was approaching him, Chris picked up the phone and began the usual greeting for Crane Industries. Of course, it was another complaint. Chris told himself that he shouldn't be surprised, but he could only nudge the phone against his shoulder and hold it in place with his ear. He tried to listen, but all the calls were beginning to swirl together.

A few minutes later, after swearing that he would personally look for a missing file, Chris hung up and breathed deeply.

"I don't get paid enough for this. I'm getting a raise when Theresa gets back." And to solidify it, Chris marked down on the Chinese menu next to other notes his demand for a salary increase with paid vacations and extended lunch times.

Still, it felt odd to him to have to write on such a primitive piece of paper. It was white, bland. And he could make out the black markings of menu items and the red chili shapes where spice level was indicated. It simply wouldn't do.

Chris spun around again and began to dig out his beloved Post-Its. How could anyone take a proper note on anything other than a bright yellow square with stickums on the back? Then he noticed a body standing in front of him.

"Whitney…?"

Whitney stood firm, her hand latched around the purse strap at her shoulder.

"She's been avoiding me," she said, nodding towards Theresa's office door. "She won't answer her cell and you keep insisting that she's not here."

Whitney stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, to offer her some kind of further explanation. But all he could do was stare at her.

"So… she can't avoid me if I'm here."

"Uh…. She's—she's not here," Chris admitted spastically.

Again Whitney stared at him, almost as if her eyes would force him into telling her what she really wanted to hear. But still, Chris stared back at her with the same empty expression.

The tension was becoming more and more tense in their stare and Whitney eventually broke it, looking down at her shoes momentarily. When she looked back up to him, she turned towards Theresa's office door and pulled her purse strap against her shoulder even tighter.

"If you'll excuse me," Whitney said, heading towards Theresa's door.

Chris was much too exhausted to even bother following her. Whitney would discover the truth for herself and he could relish in the rare few seconds of silence. For the first time in a few days, the office felt as it usually did, a nice quite lull around him. He pulled his beloved Post-It notes stack from his desk and played with it like a yellow accordion, pulling it apart and pushing it back together, imagining music being produced.

Then the silence was gone and interrupted by Whitney's loud heeled footsteps against carpet.

And the phone started once again; Chris' silence and calm was over.

Chris reached for the phone and just as he was about to put it to his ear, Whitney snatched it from his hand and slammed it back down in the cradle. Chris was shocked, completely angry that she could hang up on someone possibly essential to the Crane Empire.

"Where is she, Chris? She's not here!"

Chris threw down his yellow stack, his clear indication of fury unnoticed by Whitney, and looked up to his guest with a menacing glare.

"I know! I believe I told you that."

Whitney stood up straight, clutching her bag as if it gave her some kind of power over Theresa's assistant.

"Do you know where she is?"

Chris picked up his Post-Its again and resumed playing with the stack like an instrument, admiring the sound of the paper slapping together and then being pulled apart.

"Chris?" Whitney asked through hard-lined teeth. "Where is she?"

Her tone was sharper than he'd ever heard before, and yet, he was taking pleasure in her obvious discomfort. She hung up on his phone call, after all. For all she knew, it could have been Jin X imports needing to get a hold of Fox, or Valentino wanting to look at more of Theresa's sketches. In the simple gesture of hanging up, Whitney could have single-handedly brought the entire Crane Empire to ruin.

"She's not here," Chris answered simply, a frustrated breath leaving his lungs.

He turned his attention back to his yellow stack and watched the paper cascade down on his desk. The smile that pulled at his lips was one that Whitney was beginning to despise. Besides, he was getting excited over Post-Its!

"Chris!"

Whitney slammed her hand on top of his Post-It stack and snatched it away from. As he looked up to her, she threw the notes half-way across the room, well out of his reach.

Frustrated before, now Chris had had enough.

"How dare you!" he screamed.

"Chris, you tell me where she is and I'll buy you a pack. A really big one. I'll get you two packs. All different colors, too. I'll even by you the little plastic dispenser that pops them up for you."

Chris considered her offer, wondering if he should take it. On one hand, Theresa was his boss and it was his job to ensure her security unless otherwise instructed. Because he had yet to receive any direct orders from either Theresa or Fox concerning the empire, he had to take it upon himself to act as he thought best. Besides, he also knew what had recently transpired between Theresa and Whitney… and Fox. And he wasn't sure that Theresa would have wanted Whitney anywhere near her. And Fox was also in the hospital… He truly didn't know what to do.

But she did offer to get him a Post-It dispenser. He would never lose his stack ever again.

"She's at the hospital," he admitted.

"The hospital," Whitney repeated. "Why?"

Again, Chris weighed the option of explaining why Theresa was in the hospital. But he wasn't sure that was his place at all.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can tell you that. But if you go to Harmony General, she might tell you herself."

Whitney stared at him for a long and hard moment. She wondered if he was telling her the truth. But then, considering that she was no where to be found, she had to take what she could get. If she was in the hospital, it would make a decent reason as to why she hadn't answered her cell phone in days and why she wasn't at work.

She didn't verbalize her thanks as she headed for the elevator and pushed the call button. Chris leaned over his desk to watch her leave. But as she stepped into the elevator, he remembered her offer.

"Make one pack neon and the other all yellow!"

* * *

Fox was still staring at her with huge eyes, wondering and hopeful eyes. His hand squeezing hers was the only thing that reined her thoughts back in.

Right, what was she saying, exactly? She wasn't quite sure. Yes, it was over with Ethan, it had to be. For good. Only, where did that leave her? And Fox was wondering the same thing. He wanted to know what it meant for them as a couple, as a family.

But the truth was, she wasn't quite sure where she wanted it to take them… or 'them'.

Theresa had always defined herself as many things. And for most of her life, she was the woman that loved Ethan. For a brief period, she was the one that would marry Ethan. She was the one that was in Ethan's heart. She was fated to be with Ethan. And those labels never ended when she ended their affair, or when she married Fox.

All of a sudden, however, those labels were no longer appropriate for her.

She would always love Ethan, yes. But she was no longer the one that would marry him, or the one that would be with him. It was truly over for them now.

For a brief instant, Theresa felt nothing but waves of panic. She was no longer sure how to define herself. If she wasn't meant to be with Ethan, if they were no longer to be a part of each other's lives, she wasn't sure what to be anymore, what to do.

Again she looked in Fox's face, his handsome and elegant features that had been passed down from Crane father to son and mother to daughter. Faintly, she could make out the shape of Ivy's feline eyes, and the distinct rich brown color of Julian's. His nose, though, was all Alistair. Even though evil, the man still had the features models wished they'd possess well into old age. The hard line of his jaw was Ivy's as well, perhaps even extending into the Winthrop family for years and years. And for the first time, Theresa realized that Ethan had the same strong line from his chin back to his ears…

The thought of Ethan forced her mind back into the present, to staring at Fox.

Fox.

"Theresa… Theresa, are you saying…?"

She knew what he was asking her. She knew what he wanted. Actually, it was the same thing he had wanted since the day he asked her on their first date. He'd finally summoned enough courage to ask her out and in a time of need, afraid of pushing away a very dear and close friend, she agreed. She knew that her heart wasn't ready for a relationship, if it ever would be. But she didn't want to lose him. So she said yes. And ever since that moment, her life had been a windfall to where she found herself laying in a hospital bed without Ethan, without a baby.

Theresa considered what he was asking. He was asking if she was finally ready to move on with him, fully. If she was prepared and willing to let go of her past, of Ethan, for good. But what choice did she have?

Above all else, Theresa knew one thing: she and Ethan, though the greatest love she could imagine, were simply not good for each other. When together, they ruined the lives of others. There was no way around that truth. For years, they tried and failed to be together one too many times. And finally, it was ended.

But now with Fox… it was different. He was her friend once, her best friend. She could rely on him when she absolutely needed it most. He would give everything for her, and he had. But he would continue being her rock, her support, her best friend… if she would only let him.

What Fox wanted was the family he dreamed of, the wife he deserved. And he wanted it to be Theresa.

So Theresa weighed it back and forth in her brain. If she was going to be without Ethan, why shouldn't she be with Fox? He was her best friend once and could be again. He could make her laugh and giggle until she cried, he could make her perfect soufflés in the middle of the night if she had a craving, he could share his life with her.

"I'm… I'm saying that… that…" Theresa wasn't sure what to say, exactly. She wasn't sure how to put it so that it wouldn't cheapen the marriage that Fox revered so. "We… I want… us."

Fox's face brightened immediately. In one word, he understood what she was telling him. And he couldn't be happier. A smile stretched over his face and he put his lips to hers quickly.

"I love you," he whispered into her mouth. "I love you."

When he pulled back, it warmed her heart to see him so happy. At the same time, it hurt her that he was so happy when she couldn't be.

Theresa attempted to smile, she tried to make it as real and as genuine as possible. But she was sure that she failed in her attempt. There must have been some weakness that Fox either didn't notice or pretended not to see.

"Oh, Theresa, I swear! I swear, I'll make it up to you. I promise!" Again he kissed her and two loose tears fell from her eyes when she closed them.

Fox finally pulled back far enough and he looked down to their entwined hands. He was toying with the words in his head, wanting to get them right and sincere enough so that she would undoubtedly believe him.

"Theresa… I swear… I will never betray your trust. Ever again. I promise you that. On my life. With all my heart, I swear it to you."

He looked up at her, willing her to understand and believe what he was saying was completely true and without reproach. When he met her eyes, Fox knew that Theresa believed him. Though she wasn't mentioned, Fox knew that Whitney was in the backs of both of their minds. He would have to do some extraordinary work to truly make up for the pain he'd caused.

Theresa's eyes fell to her hand when she felt Fox turn it over. He seemed to be studying her knuckles, rubbing them back and forth. She wasn't sure what he was doing and just watched. Finally, his thumb and pointer finger wrapped around the ring on her fourth finger.

Fox spun the ring back and forth, the diamond shimmering in the light as it moved. Theresa was suddenly afraid, and very confused. Every time that Fox spun it back and forth on her finger, he was always pulling it further and further down.

Was he taking it off?

Theresa panicked.

Fox had just promised to love her, to earn back her trust, to give her his heart… and yet, here he was removing her wedding ring. Perhaps he'd gone back on what he'd said, perhaps he didn't mean it. Maybe he couldn't accept the fact that she and Ethan were really and truly over.

Then the ring came off and Fox held it in his fingers. He held it up, staring at the way the cheap lighting of the room bounced off the platinum band and the exquisite diamond. Staring at the ring, Fox breathed a long sigh, admiring. After a beat, while Theresa was panicking the entire time, Fox finally looked back to her and smiled.

"Theresa…," he began, his voice soft and tender.

Suddenly, without rhyme or reason, a memory from two years prior came rushing into Theresa's mind.

_A walk on the wharf. _

_ Stars in the sky. _

_ Waves crashing. _

_ Fox kneeling. _

_ A small black box. _

_ A glittering ring. _

_ An answer. _

_ A kiss. _

Fox held the ring just at the tip of Theresa's finger, waiting and asking permission to push it on fully. Theresa stared at it, wondering what kind of game he was playing, if any. If he was indeed proposing to her, with her wedding ring, she didn't know why. And his next words didn't help matters any.

"I have a confession to make. Several actually."

Theresa watched the ring and waited for it to resume its place on her finger next to her knuckle. The white band on her skin was a reminder that she felt some kind of emptiness without it.

But then she focused on his words.

"What?"

Theresa looked up to Fox and evaluated his face for any kind of sign for what he was referring to. Perhaps the proposing gesture wasn't what he'd intended. Perhaps he was simply taking off the ring he'd given her once as a promise of his devotion and love. And she knew she deserved nothing less.

"What kind of confession?" Theresa asked, a panic starting to spread through her chest and up to her neck in a hot blush of worry.

Theresa wasn't sure what to expect, but she found herself waiting for confessions of mistresses and gambling and prostitution, and even crime affiliation that would have been expected in the time of Alistair Crane. She never would have thought Fox capable, but there was something in his eyes telling her that she wouldn't like what she was about to hear.

"A few years ago… I saw something… and I pretended that it never happened. I lied to myself because I thought I was doing the right thing. For me. For you. For everyone involved. And it's haunted me ever since."

Now Theresa was extremely worried. Though she wasn't sure to what he could be possibly referring, she knew that when he finally did reveal what he'd been hiding, it would change a course in their relationship forever.

"What—what did you see?" she asked, afraid of the answer and afraid to sit without knowing for a second longer.

Fox dropped the ring from the tip of her finger and gently caressed the back of her hand. Theresa watched as the ring slid into the folds of the cheap blanket over her hospital gown.

"Do you remember the day we got married?" He looked up to her, wanting her to know that he remembered everything in fine detail as if he'd had a photographic memory for that day alone. "Do you remember… the reception?"

Theresa nodded and again Fox looked down at her hand, shielding himself from her view. She knew that it was his defense mechanism for protection and for hiding from what he didn't want to see. It no doubt stemmed from childhood when his older brother was chosen for affection and attention over him, when his grandfather yelled at him for seeming too 'common'.

"After the dance…," he paused, smiling, "you went out to the terrace to talk to Ethan."

Right away, Theresa wanted to deny what he'd said. She wanted to offer another explanation for having gone out there, away from her wedding party, her family, her new husband, all for a man that she had vowed to leave in her past many times.

"No, Fox, that's not—"

He held up his hand to stop her refuting. He didn't want or need to hear any of her denials. Because he'd seen everything with his own eyes. And he would tell her.

"I saw you walk out there. At first, I thought you needed some air because of the excitement. You know, everyone fussing over you, the bride." He smiled. "But I couldn't stop myself. I went to the window and I watched."

Theresa knew what was coming next. Her chest tightened in preparation.

"Even if I just watched you staring at the sky, or dancing, or sitting, I just didn't want to let you out of my sight at that moment." He paused again, the silence longer this time. "I saw you talking to Ethan."

"Fox," she tried. But again he held his hand up to cut her off from speaking.

"I just watched. I wasn't sure why, but it was almost like… I couldn't move. I watched you with him, the way you seemed drawn to him. For the first time the entire night, I noticed the look on your face. It wasn't exhaustion from wedding planning. You looked at him and… it's hard to describe… it… it looked like you were dying."

Theresa's jaw started quivering. She had to look away. When she looked towards the window, it had grown dark outside.

"I saw him pull you to him, the way he touched you… I watched when he put his hand on your chest. Something… inside of me wanted to kill him. And I almost ran out there and threw him off the terrace," he admitted, shame clearly easing its way into his voice. "But I looked at your face, I saw how you looked at him… and I knew that I could never hurt him because of what it would do to you."

For some reason, a dark memory, a false memory, came pushing into Theresa's consciousness. The dream of a slumped figure over a Victorian armchair, with a gun hanging off the side in a limp hand. The loud crack of a pulled trigger still echoing in the darkness…

Theresa contemplated the possible death of Ethan on her wedding day, on any day at all, and she couldn't take it. Still staring out the window, her eyes overfilled and tears poured down quicker than they ever had.

"And then," Fox continued quickly, "I watched him kiss you."

The dark dream ended. It was immediately replaced by memories, real memories, of Ethan kissing her that day at her wedding reception. He kissed her in her library while Fox cooked dinner a floor down. He kissed her at her front door when he pushed his way into her home. He kissed her on the kitchen counter, the same that Fox usually used to cut raw meat before cooking it. He kissed her in her bed, the bed she shared with her husband. He kissed her in the foyer, in the car, in the grass, in her office, in his office, on the floor, on a couch, against the wall, on the wharf, against the huge window behind her desk, at the hospital, on the cliffs, at Mariel's apartment, at his hotel room…

"I couldn't stop looking," Fox admitted. "I watched how his hand curved around your face, the way his other arm pulled you to him, against him, so close. I watched, but I wanted to scream. I wanted to go out there and rip you away from him. I wanted to beat his face in with a boulder. But then… I watched you. You didn't pull away."

He looked up to her and let her know that he'd always known. Always.

"He kissed you. And you kissed him back. You clung to him. And I just… the way you kissed him… I realized that… you had never kissed me like that. It was never so… desperate. Ever."

Theresa kept crying, refusing to meet his eyes. She knew what he was saying was true, and it certainly would do no good for her to deny it further. For years, she always wondered what would have happened if Fox had seen the kiss. And finally, after years of wondering, she found herself wondering the opposite.

"I didn't know what to do… So I pretended that it was a dream, that it never happened."

A soft chuckle left his throat at his remark. As if he could ever pretend that what he'd seen never happened. Even though he was in a divulgatory mood, he would never tell that he tried and tried to get her to respond to him as she had that once on the terrace with Ethan. But she never had.

"Fox, I'm so—"

His hand once again silenced her.

"I'm not done. Please…" Fox took several long breaths before he continued with his next admission. "The meeting that you had with Ethan… at Dimension… I did that on purpose."

Theresa turned to him quickly, confused.

"What do you mean? You couldn't have known…"

Fox shook his head, chuckling at his embarrassment.

"I did… I hoped it would. I was just… so tired… Theresa, I was tired of seeing you so… unhappy with me." Before she even opened her mouth to refute his claim, he held his hand up and continued. "I saw how sad you were, how it pained you to be away from him. And I've always wanted your happiness more than my own." He paused, trying to gather his thoughts efficiently.

"Fox, I," she began, but she kept speaking through his stopping gestures. "No, no. What happened that day, it's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that. That was me and Ethan. We knew what we were doing and we did it."

Fox shook his head again.

"I wanted it to happen, Theresa. I wanted you to give in to what you wanted. I wanted you and Ethan… to…" But he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"But… _why?"_ she asked, strained, confused, and unsure.

A chuckle came from his throat again. "I was playing god… and you were my Eve."

Theresa wasn't quite sure what he meant. All that came to mind were images of a legged snake and a bright red apple hanging from an immaculate tree.

"I don't… understand."

"I knew you wanted to be with him. I knew that. But I didn't know how to let you go. I needed you to do it yourself."

He let the truth of what he saying sink in. He waited for her to jump up from the bed in a rage, angry that he'd toyed with her. He waited and waited for her anger to come. But it didn't. Nothing but confusion crossed her face.

"So you… you wanted me… to sleep with him?"

Fox closed his eyes as images of her in Ethan's arms crossed his brain. But it was his fault and he couldn't very well blame her for having to say it out loud.

"I wanted you… to leave me," he admitted. "Because I couldn't do it. I needed you to leave… if you wanted to." He paused, surveying her face. "But you came back. And I believed that you wanted to be with me. That you chose me over him."

"Fox—"

"No, please, let me finish. What I did was wrong. I should have told you how I felt. I had no right to thrust you into temptation like that. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you enough to know that you can think for yourself."

Theresa didn't know what to say. A part of her wanted to blame Fox for what she'd done. She wanted to place all of the blame of her affair on him. But at the same time, she knew that it was her decision. He gave her the opportunity, but in the deepest part of her heart, she knew that it most likely would have happened anyway. Because she and Ethan… were drawn to each other, just like Fox said. It was true. And it was hard to stay away from him.

It would have been easy to pass everything of the past few months onto Fox and blame him for the horrible outcome of it all. But in the end, it was all truly her fault. Ethan wasn't even really to blame.

"Theresa…," he whispered with caution.

As if answering his unspoken question, she looked back up to him to let him know that it was okay, that she didn't begrudge him for what she'd done.

"It's my fault," Theresa admitted. "All of it. And I'm sorry."

"No, it's not. I always knew I loved you more… I knew I could never replace… him… But I hoped that in time, you'd grow to love me as much as I loved you."

"Fox—" she tried to protest.

"No, it's true and you don't have to deny it. I made the mistake of hoping for a miracle once, but I'm being honest with myself now. I can't replace him, and I never will. And I'm not going to try. But…"

Fox dug into the folds of the blanket in search of the fallen ring, pushing used and rough cotton material this way and that until he found the glint of platinum. He held the ring in his fingers and showed it to her as he had once shown her a ring on the wharf. He took her hand and positioned the ring at the tip of her finger again.

"I will do whatever I can to make you happy. I will love you… more than I can even imagine… if you'll have me."

Fox waited, staring into her eyes. Theresa looked back him with confusion, with shock, and then she looked down to the ring waiting to be put back on her finger.

In that instant, she knew what he was saying to her. Not only was he offering to give her back her ring if she accepted, but he was also offering to take it off permanently if she refused. For once in all the time she knew him, he was finally acting of his own accord and allowing himself to make decisions that would affect them as a couple.

No more apples and snakes. No more temptations and games.

It was simply Fox and Theresa, and a ring of promise.

"I want to recommit to you, Theresa. I want to start off new, fresh; put everything of these past two years behind us." He began to push the ring harder against the tip of her finger. "Will you marry me?"

Theresa was so overwhelmed with emotion, with shock, with understanding, with resolve, with purpose, that all she could do was nod.

Fox pushed the ring back into place and cupped her cheek as he kissed her. Finally, he hoped, they could finally start again, fresh, and forever.

What neither of them knew, however, was that a person had been watching from the doorway the entire time and was now running down the hallway to the opposite side of the hospital, running into a nurse and spilling a false truth.

* * *

Whitney was shaking. She suddenly felt like Theresa, or how she imagined Theresa must feel at times like these. With a new hair-brained scheme, Theresa always seemed to be collected and cool. She was ruled by her emotions, and in turn, a moral sense of duty when devising her wild tactics.

But she wasn't Theresa. And she wasn't seventeen anymore. This was serious. And what she was about to do would change lives in more ways than one.

With the thought heavy in her brain, Whitney quickly rushed into the nearest ladies' room. She made a mad dash through to check under all of the stalls. It was empty. She was lucky and was able to lock the main door.

Her breathing was quickening, her chest shaking. All she could do was stand in front of the sinks, in front of the large mirror, and stare at herself. She looked into her own eyes, deep brown, and wondered what kind of person she had become.

Doubt was beginning to take root in her heart. She was beginning to fear herself and what she was capable of. For years, she had been Theresa's sidekick and simply the follower. What no one ever understood, however, was how conniving she could be as well.

Thinking of Theresa brought back the instant memories of watching Fox and Theresa in the hospital room together. It wasn't what she expected to see in her wildest dreams.

As soon as she left Theresa's office, she headed for Harmony General. She had to excuse herself from nurses that had known her since she was an infant and quickly asked for Theresa's room. She was given a number and assured all the doting nurses that she would find it for herself.

Finally, when she arrived outside of Theresa's door, she heard his voice. Fox was speaking to Theresa in the quiet and deep tone he'd always used. Just his voice sent odd shivers up and down her back. They weren't of fear, but they weren't of comfort. They were of some sort of warning. As if her body was trying to tell her to run away, far away.

But she didn't listen. She stayed just outside the door, her ear as close as possible but without actually stepping into the doorway.

On her way to the hospital, she was going to ask for Theresa's forgiveness. She was going to beg and plead for their friendship to be restored. And above all, she would finally encourage Theresa to be with Ethan. For years they had been pushing and pulling against each other until they finally succumbed and pulled everyone around them into a dark black hole with them.

Of course, it also meant that if Theresa was with Ethan, if she finally followed her heart, Fox would be free of the marriage of torture. He would finally realize that Theresa didn't love him as she should. At first he would be hurt. But eventually, he would see that it was for the best. And she would be waiting for him, ready and waiting to forgive him and accept him.

But standing outside the door, she realized that all the thoughts and hopes she'd had on her way to the hospital were swiftly spilling down the drain.

Whitney listened intently to Fox's confession. She wondered what Theresa was thinking, what her face looked like. How on earth would she ever be able to accept what Fox had done? He had basically ruined her life with the way he had toyed with her. Whitney waited for Theresa's lashing, for the backlash of Fox's honesty.

It never came.

Silence was followed by more confessions followed by silence and Theresa's denials.

Everything began to go and twist horribly wrong. Everything that Whitney had imagined only minutes before was crumbling at her feet. She could only listen and hope that it would eventually work out the way she'd wanted. But then she heard it. It was the nail that linked the railroad into one piece. It was the cinching pin at the end of a dress. It was the final prick on a voodoo doll.

"I want to recommit to you, Theresa. I want to start off new, fresh; put everything of these past two years behind us."

Whitney shook her head violently to herself. "No."

She knew Theresa would refute it all. She knew that the memory of Ethan was enough to make her refuse. She knew that with the new opportunity, Theresa would never agree to stay with Fox.

"Will you marry me?" Fox asked.

"No," Whitney whispered to herself. "No…"

There was a long silence that followed. Whitney's heart soared. She smiled and was overjoyed that finally, Fox would be free of Theresa's clutches. At the same time, her heart was breaking for Fox. She knew that he was setting himself up to be broken yet again. And a smile broke her face. Because she promised to be there to hold him when he cried.

Suddenly, a strange sound broke her thoughts and caught her off guard. She was waiting for Fox to beg Theresa, to perhaps start crying. She waited for Theresa's apology and her own tears.

Instead, there was s wet sucking sound, something moving together, something puckered.

They were kissing.

Whitney's entire mind blew apart. She didn't know what to do. She froze, she jumped. She wanted to scream and yet couldn't find her voice. The next thing she knew, she was running down the hallways and back to the front desk of the hospital. Nurses eyed her strangely, scared. While running, Whitney accidently bumped into a woman in minty green scrubs. The woman, trained in medical care, was concerned for Whitney. Instead of allowing a minute for inspection, Whitney threw herself into the nearest restroom and locked the door behind her.

Now she was staring at herself in the mirror, wondering if she could be so calculating. The truth was, her plan was already in place. She just didn't know if she had the strength to follow through with it.

But all she had to think about were Fox's words.

_Will you marry me?_

Anger flooded her veins. Rage, vengeance, fury, and unadulterated fire pulsed through her.

Whitney let out a firm breath as she stared at herself. She watched as her chest moved in and out quickly. Her heart was no longer racing, it was calm. She was calm. Angry, but calm. She could do this. She would do this.

Whitney pulled the purse strap against her shoulder again. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and nodded. She was going to go through with it and she wouldn't apologize for it. She was doing what she had to do.

Finally, strength renewed, mind settled, heart back to normal, Whitney unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into one of the long hallways of the hospital. Gracefully, she walked to the front desk and waited until the attending nurse looked up from her paperwork.

Whitney was thankful that she'd never met the nurse before. Being the hospital administrator's daughter certainly had its disadvantages in a situation like this.

"Can I help you, dear?" the woman asked.

Suddenly, Whitney did her best to channel Theresa. She swallowed several times to bring up a lump in her throat. She blinked her eyes to make them watery. She took in shaky breaths.

"Um… I need to talk to someone…" Whitney said in a shaky voice that might have belonged to a frightened four year-old.

The nurse set down her pen with a light thump. "Who, honey? A doctor?"

Whitney fidgeted with her hands on purpose. She scrambled with her feet, looking down and pretending to be ashamed.

"I… uh… I was…" She stopped for dramatic effect and took in another shaky breath. "I was raped."

The nurse immediately shot up from her chair and spun around the desk to Whitney. She gingerly wrapped her arms around her.

"Oh… here, let me get you over to our gynecology department."

The nurse waved over a security guard and asked him for a wheelchair. She insisted Whitney sit down and began to wheel her over to the adjoining ward of the hospital.

As she was wheeled, Whitney had to try her best to conceal the smug smile that wanted to pop up against her face. She knew that an exam was sure to be next, possibly a visit by a hospital psychologist and a follow up by the Harmony PD. She'd heard the procedure many times when her mother had come home from work only to express her sorrow for whatever girl had the misfortune of encountering the scum of the earth that month.

Everything seemed to pass by in a strange blur. First she was in the lobby in the arms of a strange woman, then she was being wheeled quickly to a different ward, then in an elevator, then she was finally put in a room and made to lie down. And to complete the experience, she was given her very own hospital gown.

She sat waiting in an empty room. The nurse had offered to stay with her, but Whitney simply explained that she preferred to either be alone or to be accompanied by someone she knew. Trust issues, as it were. The nurse immediately understood and left her alone in the room with the backless gown.

The nurse had also given her a box of tissues, just in case. But Whitney's strength of character was no doubt the only thing keeping her tears in.

Whitney felt guilty for pulling the stunt. But it didn't take a lot for the imagination to fly to her current position. Had she fled from Fox's home four days prior, had she acted instead of going catatonic, she might have found herself in the hospital for real instead of as part of a farce to cause trouble between the happily married couple.

She thought back to that night. Back to the way Fox held her, the way he moved and breathed above her. She had wanted it for so many nights as she laid alone in her bed, longing for a pair arms to hold her close. But she couldn't even date when she had Fox on her mind.

Finally, after years and years of longing and waiting and aching, Fox was the one holding her. But his reunion with Theresa was threatening to tear it apart. She just couldn't have it.

For years, Theresa always got what she wanted. No matter what she had to do, she schemed and plotted and lied and bent truths and caused scenes. And Whitney always stood in the corner as she watched her best friend get everything she could hope for. But no longer. Whitney was acting of her own will. She wanted Fox… and she was going to get him by whatever means necessary.

The minutes ticked by in the sterile and quite hospital room. Though she'd been through gynecological exams before, it had never been quite this way, with quite so much tension. She had to remind herself to continually 'act the part' to stay convincing.

Shortly after, a middle-aged woman walked in wearing a white lab coat much too long for her short frame. She wore the signaling stethoscope around her shoulders in case there was any question of her medical practices.

The expression she wore was grave, almost as if strained for compassion and eager for sadness.

"Whitney? I'm Dr. Surey."

The woman took a seat on the short stool next to the elevated hospital bed. Whitney sat still, her open back spreading into goose bumps at the draft.

"You don't have to say anything to me… if you don't want to. I'm just going to give you an exam, alright? Are you okay with that?"

Whitney played her part to the T. She licked her lips slowly, hesitantly as if she were really weighing the idea. She picked at her fingernails, her cuticles, and looked out the window for a distraction. Finally, she nodded. And just like an Oscar winner, as she looked up, her eyes were full of fake tears.

Dr. Surey offered her a smile in comfort and assurance. Whitney continued to play her part and thought about every move before she made it. When the doctor asked her the routine questions, Whitney pretended to answer in extreme stress and emotional pain. Finally, it was time for the exam.

Whitney was lowered onto the bed fully and Dr. Surey produced long metal legs from the end of it. She folded them up into position and gingerly grabbed onto Whitney's right ankle.

"I'm just going to put your foot in the stirrup," she explained, having guessed that her patient might be particularly afraid of physical contact. "And the other," she offered as she grabbed the left ankle and did the same.

Dr. Surey turned her back to Whitney as she grabbed her necessary items from the drawers. Whitney could hear the snapping of latex gloves and the clanking of plastic and metal.

Whitney told herself to breathe deeply, to ignore what was going on. She had always hated gyno visits, but this was different. This wasn't for her health. This was for revenge and something that she had wanted to do. While Fox had somewhat forced himself on her, she had been a willing participant for the most part. But she would ignore that fact as she sat through the exam and through the endless string of questions that was sure to be coming from the therapist and Harmony police officer.

"All right, now just let your knees fall apart," Dr. Surey instructed.

Whitney took a deep breath and shut her eyes. To fuel the anger she needed, she thought of Fox moving above her, moaning Theresa's name over and over. She thought about Fox's proposal on the other side of the hospital.

As she felt the cool touch of Dr. Surey's gloved hands, Whitney realized that there was no going back now.

* * *

The next morning Ethan pulled a loud zipper closed on his large duffle bag. He'd simply thrown anything that could fit inside. He was sure that if he'd taken the time to fold anything, much more would have fit. But he didn't take the time and threw everything he'd brought with him into his open suitcases and bags.

"Ethan, you can't be serious," Mariel whined. "What are you—"

"I'm leaving, Mar. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"But, why? You don't have to go back there. You can move in with me. We'll leave Harmony if you want. We'll get far, far away from here."

As if to emphasize her romantic suggestion, she stood from the bed and stood close to him, her hand pulling at the tie looped around his neck.

Ethan watched as she came closer, already his mind spinning with contrasting images of Theresa. As Mariel leaned in slowly to press her lips against his, Ethan gently pried her fingers away from his tie and stepped back.

"My life is in Harmony, Mar. I belong here."

Mariel watched as Ethan continued packing his belongings. His hotel room was an absolute mess. The drawers were all pulled open, some even halfway out of the dresser, spilling to the floor crookedly. The bed hadn't been made and Ethan had refused any kind of housekeeping service for two days now.

"No…," Mariel whispered. "It's because she's here, isn't it?"

She waited for an answer to prove her thought, but he wouldn't answer her. Ethan only continued packing. He moved from room to room, making sure he'd left nothing behind. His suitcases were by the door and he was gathering his wallet and keys from the dressing table.

"That's why, isn't it? Because Theresa's still in Harmony. That's why you won't leave."

Ethan winced at the mention of her name. He hadn't heard it since he screamed after her two days before. She didn't turn back to him. She just kept running down the parking lot and never looked back.

And she never came back. He waited for her for hours. He sat on the floor next to the door, waiting and hoping. Every sound he heard, he wished it was Theresa coming back. But only one knock came a few hours later. Much to Ethan's dismay, it wasn't Theresa. It was Mariel.

For two days, Ethan again indulged in empty physical pleasure with the blond woman. He hated himself after wards, but he needed something to distract himself. He needed something to wash the smell of Theresa's skin from his body. She was still on him, near him. Mariel was the perfect contrast.

But after two days, he'd had enough. Theresa wasn't coming back and Ethan couldn't take the nausea that began when his and Mariel's coupling ended. Every time, she'd pull herself close to him, in an attempt to cuddle, and right away, he'd have to excuse himself to use the restroom. While he was away, he took the few minutes he had to calm himself down, to breathe, to remind himself that he asked for Mariel's company—needed it. Simple memories of her face brought on the waves that sent him face-to-face with the toilet seat. He kneeled on the cold tile floor and willed himself the strength of a man.

Strength wasn't what he needed, though. Theresa was.

He hated having to embarrass Mariel, a woman that had never done him any harm, by treating her like something to be used. She never demanded any kind of respect for herself while with him, yet it wasn't how he was raised to treat women. He wanted to worship them, shower them with affection and love. No, he wanted to worship and shower Theresa.

And she was gone.

"You won't answer me," Mariel persisted. "Why?"

Ethan pocketed his few personal items from the dresser and spun around.

"What do you want me to say, Mar?"

Her eyes, once somewhat warm and accepting, grew cold. Suddenly, Mariel was no longer Mar. She was no longer the woman that flirted with him and offered on countless occasions to cook for him, that invited him on week-long vacations on her yacht. Instead, she was the woman that all men of high society began to fear. She was the vixen that ensnared, the woman that, when she wanted, could do whatever she pleased. She was the coldest woman he'd ever seen.

"Just answer me."

Ethan pulled in a long breath through his nose. He licked his lips in thought.

"I'm staying. That's it."

Again, he avoided her question. But the truth was, he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it. He didn't want to understand the complexities of his choice to stay in Harmony. He wanted to go on with his original assumption that his entire life was in the twisted little town.

If he really grasped that he wouldn't leave because Theresa was still there…

Ethan bent down to grab the strap of one of his bags and Mariel took a step towards him, waiting for him to stand upright again. When he did, she took another step towards him, then another. She was right next to him, staring into his eyes, searching.

"My god, what did she do to you?"

Ethan turned away immediately, not wanting to see the confusion and pity in her eyes. And most of all, he didn't want her to see what was in his. He wasn't sure what would be in them, but he was sure that his eyes reacted differently when thinking of Theresa.

Mariel stood with her hands on her hips as Ethan continued to pile his bags next to the door. He grabbed a suit in a dress bag from the closet and hung it on the knob of the door.

"Ethan," Mariel called his attention.

But he didn't turn.

"Ethan! Don't you remember? Have you really forgotten? Everything she did to you… to Fox? She lied to you, for years! She drove you crazy! She manipulated you, Ethan! Then she broke your heart. She married Fox, your own brother, just for the money! And—what, she came back to you for a little while? All she was doing was eating her cake!"

Ethan spun back to her in an angry twirl. He said nothing, his nostrils flaring like a possessed animal.

"You know it's true, Ethan! You know it! And you want to ruin your life for her? You're willing to let her continue running your life? She's gone, Ethan! She's gone!"

Ethan wanted to fall to the floor. He wanted to scream. More, he wanted to throw Mariel out just so he could watch and see if she bounced against the parking lot concrete. Surely, she had enough silicone in her to do the job.

"Just… just think about it, Ethan. Think about what she's done. Don't let her ruin your life any more than she already has…"

There was the pity that he hated above all else. But still, in between his frustration at the pity in her voice, he was angry at her accusations. Mariel knew nothing about Theresa or their past. She was not permitted to make any assumptions. And above that, Ethan was not the innocent one in everything. Yes, Theresa had made her fair share of mistakes in the past. But he was also less than angelic in the beginning stages of their relationship, and still to this day.

"You… don't know _anything_ about her," he said, his teeth buckled together tightly. "Nothing."

Ethan threw several duffel bag straps over his shoulders and took the handles of his two suitcases in his hands. He nudged the door all the way open with the toe of his shoe and was about to step out when Mariel called his attention back inside.

"Forgetting something?" she asked, her thumb pointing behind her to the nightstand.

Ethan almost flew for it. He couldn't believe he'd almost left it behind. No matter what life brought him in the future, the picture would never be without him. He needed it to survive. He needed to remind himself. He was afraid that after enough time, her image might fade in his memory. He would save the only picture he had of her for the rest of his life.

He stared at the picture, remembering the odd tension between the three of them on the wedding day. So badly he wished that he had been wearing the white flower pinned to his jacket that day. It would have changed everything, altered so much in his current life.

Ethan moved his finger over Theresa's face, almost feeling her skin. The tip of his finger traced her smile, the smile that seemed forced and guilty.

She watched as he touched the photo with a revered calm. She was both disgusted and amazed at the same time. For so long, she had wished to find a love as he had, to ache so badly for someone else. But as quickly as the sentiment came, another took its place.

"What is it about her?" Mariel asked from over his shoulder.

Ethan had pushed her aside in favor of the memory of one of her rivals. And she couldn't take the humiliation. Without another word, Mariel stomped out of the room and Ethan could make out the clapping of her stiletto shoes in the parking lot.

"She exists…," Ethan whispered into the empty apartment. "She exists."

* * *

Fox was happier than he'd been in a very long time. Too long. He felt light, free, buoyant. He'd had to struggle with the doctors to let him leave so early, but he couldn't wait to be rid of the scratchy, sterile gowns and the vile stench of plastic and metal.

He also forwent the wheelchair offered him by the hospital staff and instead chose a fashionable cane with four rubber stoppers on the bottom. He had to put a lot of weight on it as he walked, careful not to put too much pressure on his leg.

When he was admitted, writhing in pain after he'd attacked Theresa's wicked office furniture, the entire hospital was abuzz because the Prince—now the King—of Harmony was injured. Some nurses were wondering to themselves if it would mean the end of the dynasty, others simply stared. The doctors dropped everything they were doing, even abandoning some seriously wounded patients, to attend to Fox.

Fox was quickly examined and rushed into x-ray. The doctors said something about wanting to make sure that if his leg was broken, marrow wasn't leaking into his system. Fox didn't really pay attention to the medical jargon going on around him. He laid still during the x-ray and stayed silent as he waited for the news. Eventually, a relieved-looking doctor approached him with a piece of x-ray film, demonstrating the hair-line fracture in his left tibia.

Though it hurt a lot more than the doctor made it seem, Fox began laughing to himself. He couldn't believe that he'd caused such damage to his bone with his tactics. Jumping to the foyer floor from up on the steps, and then kicking things around Theresa's office… it was all enough to fracture his shin bone. Despite his protests, Fox's leg was put in a cast to ensure that the bone stayed straight. The cast went from the bottom of his knee to his toes, securing his entire leg into immobility.

His wrist was another matter entirely. When he'd punched the glass window behind Theresa's desk, he severely bruised his second and third knuckles, jammed his thumb, and caused a fracture in his wrist. In one motion, in one action of distress, he'd made himself into a mess. With a cast on his right arm, and a cast on his left leg, Fox looked like a clown.

Fox pushed the cane down and distributed his weight rhythmically back and forth, like ocean waves, as he walked to Theresa's room. Thankfully out of his backless hospital gown, he wore his typical suit. Not only did it hide the cast on his leg, but all that was noticeable of his injuries was the white around his thumb.

He rounded the corner into her room and peeked in. She wasn't in her bed. Fox stepped in and checked the bathroom door. She wasn't in the room at all. For a brief second, he began panicking. He was afraid that she had changed her mind, perhaps she had called her driver to retrieve her and make certain that she wouldn't have to renew her wedding vows.

"Ah, Mr. Crane. She's just down the hall. The doctor wanted to make sure there wasn't any hemorrhaging before she was discharged," the nurse explained to him.

Fox leaned to his right, easing pressure off his left leg, and lifted his wrist to check the time. "Do you know how long it'll be?" he asked.

The nurse shook her head and busied herself with folding the blankets on the bed.

Fox contemplated sitting in her room to wait, but he was also anxious. He didn't want anything to be physically wrong with Theresa, but he was extremely ready to be out of the hospital, back in his home with his wife. He wanted to explore the new happiness that he'd been given. He wanted to celebrate in whatever form he possibly could. Besides, hospitals weren't the happiest of places.

A few minutes went by and still Theresa hadn't returned. Fox wasn't sure what kind of tests went into checking for hemorrhaging, but he didn't think it could be a simple procedure. More minutes ticked by and Fox became more and antsy. All he wanted in that moment was to be sitting at home with Theresa with a nice glass of wine in front of a blazing fireplace.

Thinking about spending time with Theresa, Fox had an idea. She had just lost a baby, possibly the one thing she never really knew she wanted. It was a traumatic event for everyone involved, but it was always worse for the mother.

Fox began thinking about the baby. He didn't want to tell Theresa, and probably never would, but he'd already begun fantasizing about a nursery and soccer games and baseball and teddy bears and dance recitals. And it was gone now. The loss still choked up him. But Theresa was the one that had lost the most and he couldn't forget that. Maybe, after they were recommitted, after the slate was wiped clean, maybe… they would try for a baby. That family he wanted and dreamed about wasn't gone completely. Not yet. But Theresa… she had been hiding her pain, he was sure.

He checked his watch again and peeked down the hall, wondering what could be taking so long. The idea he'd had a few seconds before kept swimming in his head. He couldn't help but smile. Quickly, well as fast as he could, Fox hobbled down the hall with his cane. A nurse was passing him quickly, clearly on a mission.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, stopping her.

"Yes?" she said, nearly out of breath.

"Um, my wife, Theresa Crane, she's in room 218, can you let her know that I'll be back to pick her up in just a few minutes? She's being examined right now."

The nurse checked her watch and nodded. "Sure, I'll make sure she gets the message."

"Thank you."

The nurse was gone before Fox could smile in his appreciation. Still, he was excited. On he went, hobbling down the hallway to the elevator. The gray cane provided by the hospital clashed with his sharp and tailored suit, he knew. As he stepped into the elevator and pressed the ground floor button, he made a mental note to get a much more fashionable one that seemed to fit the elegance of his last name. Maybe something with flames at the bottom. Fox continued smiling after he stepped through the lobby and into his waiting limo.

"Harmony Blooms," Fox instructed his driver.

The middle-aged man that went by Phil turned his head over his shoulder to look at his boss. "The flower shop, sir?"

Fox nodded, still smiling. "Please."

Fox began going through different arrangement ideas in his head. Roses were definitely out. He wanted to get something to cheer her up, even make her see that she could look forward to another baby. Something pink or yellow, Fox thought. Bright colors.

On the short drive, Fox twirled his cane between his fingers. He once again cringed at its geriatric appearance. After the florist, he would definitely have Phil take him to the local handicap store where more trendy wheelchairs and canes were sold. He couldn't hope to cheer Theresa up when he was hunched on a steely gray cane, even if he gave her a bouquet of pink orchids.

When he walked into Harmony Blooms, the florist was only too happy to help Fox find the perfect arrangement of flowers. He tried his best not to look down at the hospital crane Fox leaned on as he walked.

Fox picked out a massive arrangement of yellow freesias and daisies. The color was sure to brighten her day. He had a hard time passing up the roses, but he'd always felt they were cliché and only meant for romance. The orchids were beautiful, but much too big. The arrangement of freesias and daisies was just enough to cheer her up, not to help cover her pain. He didn't want her to think that he was trying to get her to forget about their lost child.

A large colorful bouquet in his lap, Phil pulled Fox's limo in front of a handicap accessory store. He spent a few minutes perusing the canes on the back wall. Unfortunately, there was no cane with flames on the bottom, swirling up the cane as he'd originally imagined. He was sorely disappointed when he couldn't find anything that seemed to fit his personality. He was just about to choose the plain black cane when something else caught his eyes.

It was a beautiful, handmade Ebody African Black wood cane with a handle made of 24 karat gold. Silver plating embellished in an intricate design from high on the handle down to the middle of the cane.

_Yes_, Fox thought as he picked it up to examine the fine craftsmanship, _much better_.

It was a cane meant for a Crane. Fox stepped out of the store with a more confident stride. Rather than feeling temporarily disabled, Fox felt his confidence returning. He wasn't a man with a recovering bone. Instead, he was a man displaying his wealth and status with a walking stick made for a man of power.

Back in the limo, he not only felt more confident, he was almost bursting with pride when he looked at the colorful bouquet sitting on the seat next to him. Theresa would love the flowers and it was sure to be an excellent way to begin their new life together.

The smile on his face wasn't falling any time soon, he knew that much. It would take a lot to change his mood. At the beginning of the day, he was a sad man that was afraid of losing his wife forever. He was sure that he would never see her again after she'd left the mansion. And if he had, he was sure she would be holding an envelope with divorce papers.

But the day hadn't gone as expected, and he couldn't be happier. His child was gone, but he knew it wasn't the end of the world. At least this way, when another child was conceived, it would be out of honesty and out of complete devotion. Ethan was now out of the picture and his family would be worry-free.

The thought of Ethan quickly brought a fresh taste of bile up into his throat. He couldn't place the anger, but he did his best to push it way back down. He would let nothing ruin his mood.

Several minutes later, he was almost at the hospital when he saw something—rather, someone—from his limo window. With everything that had happened recently, Fox had forgotten that there was a furious piece in side of him that was craving revenge. Fox's hands immediately began tightening and clenching around his new cane. He could hear his skin pulling against the African wood, it was the sound of a noose being pulled too tight.

"Pull into that parking lot," Fox commanded up into the front seat of his driver.

The tone in his voice made Phil aware that there was no room for argument or questioning.

* * *

Ethan was driving slower than he usually did. He wasn't used to having to concentrate while his eyes constantly threatened to overspill with tears.

Everything that Mariel had said in the hotel room had been correct. Though he hated to admit it, the relationship he shared with Theresa in the past had not gone unscathed by her scheming, by her plots, and by her marriage to another man, his brother. Yet, he loved her. He couldn't deny that and he wouldn't. Because the truth of it was that if he could, he'd trade his loneliness and misery to have her back if she came with the pain of the past.

If he could only have her…

He was driving to his apartment, but knew that he didn't want to go back there. One of the reasons he'd checked himself into a hotel in the first place was to rid himself of the memories he'd created with her in his apartment. He couldn't stand to walk through his living room and look at the floor. It had been where they'd ripped each other's clothes off. He couldn't stand walking into his bedroom. It had been where they made love for hours and hours without reserve, without a care in the world. He couldn't step foot into his apartment because it had been tainted by stabbing memories of a woman he couldn't have.

Still driving, he looked down to the passenger seat and at the framed picture that he had to have with him at all times. The picture had made it through two years of pain, two years of tears. Many times, Ethan had almost found the courage to throw the picture out the window, hoping that the glass would shatter, the frame would crack, and the picture would be picked up by the tire of a greasy and old moving truck. But he lacked the courage to let her go completely. Besides, with the picture, he had a piece of her. He also had something to make him remember why he couldn't be with her.

Love wasn't enough in their case. He loved her with entire being, and she loved him, he knew. Still, it wasn't enough for them to be together. She was married to his half-brother, soon to give birth to a child, and he had no place in the family life with the three of them. Eventually, after years of school runs and Christmas portraits, she would forget him and he would cease to mean anything to her. And he wished he could have the same fortune and tire of her as well.

Knowing that he couldn't go into his apartment, he couldn't face the painful memories yet, Ethan made a right and continued driving to his office. There weren't many memories of her there. Happy ones, yes. Painful ones, no. Every time she had visited him in his office, it was shortly accompanied by her ending up on the desk, against the wall, or they left for 'lunch' and lost track of time in his Lexus down in the parking lot.

Ethan parked his black car in the space marked with his name. He checked his eyes in his rearview mirror and did his best to wipe away any lingering tears that had refused to leave his lashes. Once he was assured that his eyes seemed a normal white, not too shiny, and that his face's puffiness had gone down sufficiently, Ethan walked out of the car and around to the truck to retrieve his briefcase.

He had to push his suitcases aside to get his case, but he managed. Finally, he straightened his tie, wiped his eyes once more, and slammed the trunk shut after grabbing his briefcase. With his mask of confidence, Ethan began walking through the parking lot to the elevator that would take him up to his firm floor.

Only a few feet from the elevator, Ethan stopped in his tracks and turned back around. The picture sitting in the passenger seat was calling to him. It was as if the guilty smile on Theresa's face was pulling him closer to the car. He quickly opened the door to retrieve his most prized possession. And just like every other time he stared at it, his free hand went to stroke her face. But the handle of his briefcase got in the way. Ethan had to break himself out of his quick reverie to walk back to the elevator.

During the ride up to his office, Ethan stared at the picture again. Still, after two years, he could remember with perfect recall how it felt to have Theresa pressed against him that day. He remembered the satin material of her wedding dress, the way her heart thundered under his palm. Just thinking about it, his lips tingled as if the kiss had just happened. But it had always been that way. The picture was no ordinary photograph. It was a reminder of the day everything changed, and Ethan's memory was the stronger for it.

When he felt the pull of the cables on the elevator car, Ethan quickly tucked the frame into the outer pocket of his briefcase. He wanted to avoid any questions that it might produce from the people that were sure to walk past him in the hallways.

When the doors pulled open in front of him, Ethan diverted his eyes from everyone and he did his best to outrun anyone that might be trying to follow him. He knew that he would have to answer questions about his whereabouts sooner or later. But for the time being, he needed it to be the latter. The wounds of losing Theresa were still far too fresh to begin discussing what had happened.

Just as he rounded the corner, quickly grazing a few members of his firm, he heard his name being shouted behind him. "Mr. Winthrop! Mr. Winthrop!" It was Gretchen, his receptionist.

Gretchen, the only person at the firm that Ethan had ever really confided anything in, was going to be tough to avoid he knew. Still, he wanted to try. He ran into his office and closed the door behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he threw his briefcase on his couch and proceeded to loosen his tie. Today was not a day for formalities.

His office looked just as he'd left it. Strange, he thought. With everything that had happened in his life recently, he was half expecting everything to have been altered in some way. Yet, that was the way of the world. Work never changed; it remained a constant no matter how much you enjoyed it.

Ethan leisured over to the chair behind his desk. The dark brown leather seemed just as fine and shiny as it did the last time he'd seen it. Ethan plopped down into the chair and breathed a deep sigh. Everything and nothing had changed, and it was an exhausting thought. Minutes passed, and then more minutes passed and the lingering ache for Theresa's absence was still lingering in his chest.

The memory of Theresa made Ethan close his eyes briefly. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see her. He saw her smile and the way the small lines formed around her lips. He saw her eyes change from a dark gold to a light brown. He saw the way her throat vibrated when she laughed. And with everything he saw, he had to fight back the fresh wave of tears that threatened.

The picture tucked snugly into the outer pocket of his briefcase was burning against the leather, calling to him like a Siren to a sailor. Ethan quickly retrieved the picture that became like his beacon of light. He propped the frame up on his desk on the right corner. It fit perfectly against the dark wood. No matter that he stared at the picture every night before he closed his eyes for sleep, no matter that he didn't even need to look at it to know what it looked like anymore, he could never stop looking at it. It was the only picture he had of Theresa. After he married Gwen years before, she had demanded he destroy every reminder of Theresa he had. Being the good husband that he was, he listened. He would never stop regretting it.

Ethan's brought the picture closer to him, his fingertip tracing the lines of Theresa's face, her dress. It was almost as if the picture was a time portal taking him back to moments when he really did touch her face, kiss her lips, feel her body. Then:

"Mr. Crane, please!"

The door of Ethan's office crashed open and hit the wall with crack, a piece of the wood no doubt shattering off.

Ethan looked up to the door quickly and saw Fox standing in the doorway with Gretchen trying to reach around him.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Winthrop. I couldn't stop him."

Fox was standing in the doorway, his feet spread as far apart to reach each side of the opening, Gretchen's red hair visible through the space between his arm and his body. Clenched in each of Fox's hands, positioned hard in front of his body like a tap dancer about to swing it in full motion, was the new and very expensive cane.

The look in Fox's eyes was pure fire; nothing but hatred and rage. Ethan knew the look and knew that he should have expected it after everything that had happened with Theresa. Though he knew he should be afraid, all he could do at that moment was look back down at Theresa's face.

"It's okay, Gretch. It's fine."

Gretchen lingered in the doorway for a few seconds longer, eyeing first her boss and then the intruder in the doorway in front of her. Ethan didn't look back up her and he didn't say anything else. Deciding that she would wait just outside the door in case they decided to kill each other, she reluctantly left the men alone.

Ethan's eyes didn't leave Theresa's face as he heard the door close behind Fox. Though he didn't look up, he could feel the anger pulsing from the other side of the room and he knew Fox was still there. Ethan didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to do, and truth be told, he was still far too emotionally wasted to think about what was going to happen next. Scenarios of Fox shooting him popped into his head. Hitmen also entered the imaginary picture. Still Fox didn't move and Ethan didn't take his eyes from Theresa's.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" came Fox's voice suddenly. The chill in his tone was sharp and clear.

That's when Ethan knew that it was finally going to happen. After years of wanting the same woman, of pushing down his anger and his rage, Fox was going to take his revenge and he was going to ensure that his big brother knew where the boundaries were. Ethan suddenly felt a surge of pride for Fox, glad that he was standing up for himself. Still, he was worried about himself. Though he knew Fox had every right to be angry, what he and Theresa had was not something that could be controlled and forgotten.

"What do you want me to say?" Ethan asked in a sigh.

A sudden calm seemed to wash over Fox and he gently placed the cane to the ground, his weight perched on the handle in his left hand.

"I think an apology would be in order, don't you think?"

Fox deserved an apology, Ethan knew that much. But what could he say? He loved Theresa, he always had. To him, it worse to stay away from her than to betray his brother. He knew that Fox loved Theresa, but he knew the love was pale in comparison to his own. What he and Theresa shared couldn't be matched by a quick friendship and an even quicker marriage.

Ethan propped the picture back on the corner of his desk, careful that Fox wouldn't see who was in it. After giving Theresa one last glance, Ethan stood up with a strong sigh.

"Look, Fox, I'm sorry, alright? It's not something I can control. You wouldn't understand."

Fox's left hand twisted around the handle of the cane, clenching until the strain of his palm squeezed sound against the gold like a string being pulled too tight.

"I wouldn't understand?" Fox asked incredulously.

"No," Ethan answered. "You wouldn't. It's different between me and Theresa." Just as he said her name, his eyes flickered down to the picture.

Fox's rage was pushing closer and closer to the surface. And he had to reel it in when he saw Ethan's eyes flicker down to the frame on his desk. The look that crossed his face when he looked down at the picture was something he'd seen many times and tried to ignore; it was the way he looked at Theresa. He couldn't be sure, but if he could have bet money, he would have bet that the picture was of Theresa. And that thought only angered him even more.

"It's different," Fox repeated.

"Yes," Ethan answered mechanically.

Fox's hand clenched even tighter around his cane handle.

"She is _my_ wife."

"And she loves me," Ethan whispered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Fox nodded, unable to deny what Ethan had said. He'd known that Theresa loved him from the moment he met her, even before when he was away at school.

"She loves me, too," Fox said softly. And just like Fox, Ethan couldn't deny the statement either.

"I know," Ethan said to Fox. "I know she does."

Ethan thought back the day on the cliffs, the day it felt like Theresa had stabbed him with a twelve-foot long machete. She had chosen Fox and their child over him. She'd chosen a future that didn't include him. And even though it broke his heart into a million scattered pieces, he wrote the letter that took him from her life.

After he'd given Chris the letter, he made it into the elevator and down into his car before he dropped his shield. When it fell, so did the tears. He broke down as he drove back to his apartment. He was crying so hard that he almost pulled over a few times because he was sure that he'd fall into a ditch with his unclear vision. Somehow, he managed to get to his apartment without hitting anyone or anything.

When he walked into his apartment, it was as if he were suddenly propelled by a tornado. He spun through his apartment, collecting things he needed into suitcases and duffel bags, unsure of how long he'd be gone. He knew he could stay where so many memories of Theresa were housed. He could still smell the faint hint of her perfume in the air. When he packed most of his clothes, Ethan turned the lights out and closed the door behind him, not even looking back. He was afraid that if he did, he would stay just to revel in the memories of Theresa. And he couldn't afford to be surrounded by her memories anymore—it hurt just too much.

"She does love you… and she loves me," Ethan added as his memories of such a painful day subsided. "But you don't have to worry, Fox. She doesn't want me anymore."

Again Ethan's mind drifted to the most recent memory of Theresa. He could hear her feet clapping against the concrete in the parking lot as she ran from him, he could hear his own voice screaming her name as she left. He remembered falling against the door, crumpled like a scared child, hoping with everything in him that she would come back to him. But she didn't. That night, he crawled into the bed that still smelled of her and slept with wet eyes.

With his hands still in his pockets, he suddenly was able to feel what he'd forgotten about until that moment. Ethan fingered Theresa's bracelet and he was again pelted with the onslaught of painful memories of letting her go. He remembered the look in her eyes as she handed it back to him, clasping it in his fist and making him take what he didn't want returned. As he felt it in his pocket, the pointy gold rays of the sun pricked his fingertips.

Fox could only linger on what Ethan had said about what Theresa wanted. A part of him was rejoicing inside because he knew it to be true. Theresa didn't want him anymore. She'd told him to his face that it was over and it would never start again. And to solidify her statement, she agreed to marry him again. Once again, Fox and Theresa would vow themselves to each other and Ethan would be out of their marriage once and for all.

"Just stay away from us," Fox said, his voice still chilly and smooth. "You've done enough."

Ethan's fingernail was jammed with a sunray and he pulled his hand from his pocket quickly, shaking his hand free of the pain.

"What is that supposed to mean, little brother? You have it all now. Enjoy your little happy family."

Fox's hand clenched around the cane again, this time even harder. But the pain in his chest was something he hadn't felt for a while. When Theresa first told him about the baby, he'd felt the emptiness creep into his entire body. It was as if were still alive, but all feeling had been wrenched away from him so that he was nothing but a numbed shell with all the memories. It was almost too much to bear at once.

"Thanks to you, I don't."

Ethan stared at his brother, uncertainty crossing his features. "What are you talking about? Don't you know the baby's yours? Congratulations, daddy." The tone of contempt was not lost on either of them.

Fox was now shaking as he restrained himself to keep the anger in. Ethan didn't know, Ethan couldn't know.

"I'm talking about this!" Fox threw a crumpled up white ball of paper from his pocket onto Ethan's desk.

Ethan stared at the ball in disbelief. He knew what it was without having to open it and read. Yet he didn't understand just how and why Fox had it.

"Where did you get that?" Ethan asked, a possessive anger rising into his own voice.

Fox smirked a mad smile. "I found it in Theresa's office… a few hours before she was rushed to the hospital."

Ethan's heart swirled in his chest in panic. His stomach dropped and he suddenly was very interested in Fox's cane.

"If you hurt her, I swear to God!" he screamed, moving around the desk closer to Fox.

"She had a miscarriage, Ethan. The baby's gone."

Suddenly, it was as if Ethan was being transported through time and space. If the baby was gone, Theresa had no reason to remain with Fox. If she had no reason to stay married to Fox… that would mean… Finally…

But Ethan's daydreams were cut short by Fox's next statement.

"And it's all your fault!"

Ethan was shocked out of his reverie, confused. He stared at Fox, waiting for some kind of explanation that Fox seemed too angry to deliver.

"What are you talking about? How is it my fault? I had nothing to do with that." Ethan thought back to Theresa in his hotel room, afraid that he'd been too rough with her, that the positions they were in put too much pressure on her belly. The guilt showed in his face.

Fox could only point to the letter with the tip of his cane. "Do you have any idea what that did to her? You should have just killed her, Ethan!"

Ethan began shaking, guilt multiplying into an unknown emotion that was threatening to strangle him.

"Chris told me she didn't move after she got that. She stayed in her office for two days straight. She didn't eat, she didn't sleep, she barely even blinked, Ethan! The doctors said that severe emotional trauma caused her body to flood with hormones that terminated the pregnancy. It was your fault!"

Ethan's mind wandered with imagination. He pictured Theresa sitting in her office, dazed and withdrawn. He knew how he felt to write the letter to her, dismissing himself from her life and hiding his pain in the surgically altered body of Mariel Jonsten. But he never considered what it could do to her. What it _did _to her.

"But I…"

"What did you think was going to happen, big bro? Did you honestly think that wouldn't affect her?" Fox said, his voice getting steadily and steadily louder. "You're never satisfied, are you! You won't stop until you take everything from me!"

"Fox, you think I wanted this to happen? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to leave her?" Just bringing it up caused swells of agony to rip up into his chest.

"No," Fox answered quietly after a moment. "Because I never would."

Ethan snapped his head back to him. "Is that what this is about? Some competition about who's better for her?" Ethan was steaming, his rage bubbling stronger towards the surface of his skin, threatening to break free in a scream. "Fox, you won! You can have her!"

Fox crossed the room in three strides, his left arm discarding his cane in a swift throw. Without another thought, Fox's good hand slammed into Ethan's face. Ethan didn't even see Fox's fist in the air as it made contact with his jaw. But it didn't end there. Losing his balance, Ethan faltered and fell against the desk before he slumped to the floor. Still, the punches continued to fall.

Fox bent lower and thrust his fist into Ethan's face again, ignoring the searing pain that was mounting in his wrist. Even if he broke his hand, the only one he had left, he didn't care. Again he hit Ethan, this time across his cheekbone, thrilled that the skin cracked open and a bloody line peaked through. When Ethan's head fell to the side, Fox aimed again and didn't miss when he set his fist to land straight on Ethan's nose. When a small trickle of blood oozed out from Ethan's nostril and onto his lip, Fox felt a small quip of justification and finally stopped his tirade.

"Have her? She's my wife, big brother. I shouldn't have to ask your permission!" With that, Fox crossed to the other side of the room to retrieve his cane. He had to hobble along to avoid hurting his injured leg. When he bent down, he let out a painful groan.

Ethan was still slumped on the floor, wiping his bleeding mouth when Fox turned toward the door. Just as he was about to walk out, Ethan's voice called him back.

"She married you, Fox. But she was never yours. And she never will be."

The clenching of Fox's palms around the cane was even louder than before. Fox turned around, even more rage in his eyes than last time.

"And you've always know that," Ethan added. Fox took another step towards Ethan, violent thoughts coursing through his brain. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Fox knew what Ethan was saying was the truth, yet only one thought filled his brain at that moment.

"You don't deserve her," Fox whispered in the same calm voice he'd used before. "You never have."

Fox turned to leave the office, intending to leave Ethan to nurse his blood lip alone and with nothing else but his guilty thoughts.

"Maybe," Ethan said with a hard breath as he stood up. "Maybe I don't deserve her," he admitted, wiping his lip with the back of his hand and smearing the red across his skin. "But that's never stopped her from loving me."

Fox stared at Ethan for a moment longer, his eyes changing emotions quickly. It was true and he knew it. With nothing left to say, Fox put his cane back down to the floor and walked out of Ethan's office.

* * *

Whitney was thankfully back in her regular clothes and her skin felt relieved to be out of the worst fabric man had ever conceived. She sat waiting in an empty office. She wasn't sure whose office it was, and she didn't think to take a look at the doctor's name on the door. But she was certain that was waiting for a man in blue to come interrogate her about what had happened.

Luckily for her, or so she thought, she didn't have to run over the game plan over and over again. When Theresa was following through the motions of her schemes, she always had to practice to make sure she got her story straight. As for Whitney, though, her story was almost legit. While Fox didn't rape her that night, it was the closest thing to it.

For a split second, she hated herself. She didn't want to do this to Fox. It would no doubt ruin him and his company would take a major beating when the allegations got out. Fox Crane was supposed to be the antithesis of Alistair, the white knight to bring Crane back from the dark side. When word got out that he was no better than Alistair, the man that had forced himself on his own wife…

But it had to be done. If she didn't do it, Fox and Theresa would be free to get recommitted and she would never be with him. Deep down, she knew that Fox and Theresa both knew that being together was a mistake. Yet they refused to accept it. Even after Theresa's affair with Ethan came out, Fox was so unwilling to be alone that he continued to be by Theresa's side. When the trial got started, Whitney would talk to Fox. She would make him understand that Theresa would never love him the way she should and she would agree to drop the charges _if_ he left Theresa for good.

Whitney smiled at her brilliant plan. There was no way that Fox would take the charges of rape over being with her. Whitney knew that Fox loved her, that she was sure of. What she wasn't sure of, and probably would never fully understand, was just how much he loved Theresa.

In a matter of weeks, Fox would be hers. Finally, after years of waiting and hoping, he would be hers.

Whitney focused on the details of the night she'd gone to comfort Fox. It had been everything she had dreamed about for years in a way. Fox's hands on her body, the way he kissed her, the way he breathed and moved above her… it had been like a dream come true. And only one person ruined it. Theresa. When he'd said her name, everything fell apart.

Brought out of her momentary daydreaming, Whitney flinched when she heard a hard knock on the door. In the split second it took for the door to open, Whitney straightened her posture and slowed her breathing. Still, she couldn't stop her heart from picking up its pace. If the detective put a stethoscope to Whitney's chest, he would have just how nervous she was.

"Ms. Russell, I'm—"

"Noah," Whitney interjected. "Hi."

The look on his face was of immediate recognition. "Whitney Russell, how the heck are you?" Noah picked her up with his burly arms and spun her feet off the floor, momentarily forgetting just why he was there in the first place.

The old friends embraced and smiled at each other.

"How long has it been?" Whitney asked.

Noah combed a callused hand through his dark wavy hair. "About eight, nine years."

Whitney nodded, glad to see someone she'd known in childhood. Before she'd ever met Theresa and her craziness in grade school, Whitney grew up with the Bennetts, her next door neighbors. Simone, Whitney's younger sister was Kay's, Noah's younger sister, best friend. Naturally, Whitney gravitated to someone closer to her own age. For years, they played tag until it was too dark outside to see anything. Sadly, when she met Theresa, though, their friendship ended and Noah moved away to boarding school.

"And look at you," Whitney said, stepping back to inspect his very-detective-like suit and tie. "You said you'd never join the force. What changed?"

Noah shook his head, unwilling to bring up anything about the girl that broke his heart and sent him back to Harmony with his tail between his legs. And even worse, he didn't want to tell Whitney that the girl just happened to be a Crane. The short smile that was on his face fell into a quick frown.

"Uh… law school just wasn't my thing, you know?" he lied. "'Sides, this is home."

Whitney nodded, clearly not letting on that she knew he was lying. For years, all he could talk about was getting out of the old town, away from all the same people, and away from his father, the chief of police and the discipline that followed.

The friends stood there, their hands wrapped around each other's elbows, both lost in thought and memory. As they looked in each other's eyes, they suddenly remembered that their reason for seeing each other wasn't a reunion; instead, their meeting was of a much more sinister purpose.

They pulled away from each other, Whitney sitting back in her chair, Noah's face taking the look of a detective at work rather than a long lost friend. Silence lingered in the air, both afraid to start speaking and break the camaraderie that had just been found.

"Uh… so…," Noah tried to begin.

Whitney went back to victim mode, staring at her cuticles and wearing the desperate and broken mask. Noah bought it immediately.

Noah pulled an empty seat towards Whitney and sat down. He pulled a small notebook from his back pocket and threw the cardboard top over the silver rings, leafing through a few written-on pages.

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

It was hard for Noah to be the detective he had to be at the moment. Not only had he be trained to be extremely cautious and sensitive in a situation like the one before him, but he also had a soft spot for women of violence after his sister Jessica had been assaulted a few years back.

Whitney had to push the guilt away in order to begin speaking. When she concocted her plan, she never dreamed that she would be reporting Fox to Noah Bennett. Noah, Ethan's other half brother. Noah, someone who also knew the history between Ethan and Theresa. She imagined the situation going a different way and having to explain to Fox that Noah had raped her. They were all so intricately connected that it seemed almost incestuous.

Whitney didn't know where to begin and she could tell by the silence in the air that Noah was still waiting for her to start talking. That was why he was called after all. But the thoughts and words that she'd made clear in her mind only minutes before were growing hazy.

"Do you see Ethan much?" Whitney asked suddenly, unsure of how to begin her tale.

Noah was just about to begin writing when his hand stopped midair. His thumb was applying so much pressure on the plastic pen that it almost cracked in two.

"What? Ethan did this to you?" The shock in his voice was raw, consumed with distaste as if he'd just swallowed a jar of vinegar.

Whitney looked up into his blue eyes and momentarily compared the color to Ethan's. They were both Sam Bennett's sons, but Noah got Sam's blues and Ethan got Ivy's. Noah's were a darker blue, almost purer than Ethan's. That comforted Whitney somewhat, though she knew she had no reason to be angry with Ethan. Everything that had happened with Fox and Theresa wasn't his fault.

"Of course not," Whitney protested quickly. "No, Ethan would never…The way Ivy raised him…"

Relief washed over Noah instantly. The thought of sharing a bloodline with someone so violent and cruel made his blood curdle.

"Besides," Whitney added, "Ethan loves Theresa."

Noah smiled to himself for a short second. Ethan and Theresa's love had become legend throughout the town of Harmony. It was almost ironic that she was married to Ethan's other half brother. Still, though it had been years since he'd seen or spoken to Ethan, at least it was comforting to know that he hadn't changed much. Ethan loved Theresa then, he loved her now, and he would love her always.

"Whit, are you sure you want to talk to me about this? I can get someone else if it's harder for you."

Whitney flinched, just as she thought a real victim would. "No! No, it's fine. I don't want to be alone with someone I don't know. Please… stay."

Noah gently reached a hand out to rest on hers, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

The silence that lingered between them with a long awkward pause felt heavier somehow, as if weighted with iron bars. Whitney refused to look up at Noah and he waited patiently for her to continue. Minutes passed, and then more minutes. Whitney picked at her cuticles and made soft picking sounds with her nails. Noah watched as small slivers of nail fell to the carpet at her feet. By the time her left hand was relieved of all cuticles and two of her nails, he put a hand over hers.

"Whit…"

She looked up at him, her eyes weary and falsely pained.

"Stop…," he whispered. "It's okay."

Whitney was surprised that the tears that filled her eyes at that moment were not tears to go along with her lie. Just as she was about to tell her story that would then ensure she got Fox and everything else she wanted, it seemed that she couldn't speak at all. She wanted to start at the beginning, she wanted to tell Noah about approaching a depressed and drunk Fox in his study that night. But as the story came to the surface of her mind, the tears caused a lump to form in her throat.

She wanted to do this.

She needed to do this.

But could she actually do it?

In thinking about what she was about to do to Fox, she got to thinking about the day she realized she was in love with him.

* * *

_ "Are you a fan of red peppers?"_

_ Whitney stared at the high-grade stainless steel pots and pans hanging on a rack above the island in the center of the kitchen. She wondered briefly if they would cast a perfect reflection like that of a mirror. If Theresa ever went on a tirade against all the mirrors in the house, at least the ridiculously expensive pots and pans would help. _

_ "Whit?"_

_ Whitney turned her head in the direction of the voice across the room. Fox was holding a plump red pepper in each hand. _

_ "You okay?"  
_

_ Finally able to take her attention from the pots, Whitney looked at Fox and imagined him squeezing the peppers until they popped, sending the soft flesh scattering around the room with spurts of flavored seeds. _

_ "Whitney?" Fox said again. "You sure you're okay?"_

_ Whitney slid her hand across her cheek and turned the edge of her pinky finger to drag fallen tears away from her eye. When she inhaled, a sniffle entered her nose. _

_ "Yeah. Fine." _

_ Fox only stared at her, his hands still holding the red peppers. He opened his mouth to say something, but Whitney beat him to it. _

_ "Theresa hates red peppers," she said, her voice cracking slightly. _

_ Fox looked down momentarily, his hands twisting around the peppers a little tighter. He looked back up at Whitney, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. _

_ "I know," he admitted. _

_ Whitney nodded and looked away. She sniffed again as she wiped her nose. _

_ "So… red peppers?" he asked again. _

_ Whitney looked back up to him, her eyes questioning him with unspoken words. _

_ "Whit," he said, approaching the table, "I'm making _you_ dinner." He paused, searching her eyes. "Do you like red peppers?"  
_

_ Whitney smiled while she ate Fox's fantastic rigatoni with chicken, broccoli and red peppers. Fox hummed after ever forkful. It was a rare treat for him to indulge in red peppers when his wife despised them so. _

_ Whitney pushed the small parsley pieces around her plate with a prong of her fork and Fox watched as she stared absentmindedly as she had at the pots. He watched her wordlessly, thoughts bouncing in his head. He finished the remaining wine in his glass before he took both their plates to the sink. _

_ "You're coming with me." _

_ When Whitney looked up to see what Fox was talking about, she caught sight of his back as she walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway that led down into the foyer. _

_ "Come on," he called from the hallway. _

_ Minutes went by before she got up from the table and began walking. Perhaps she had outlived her welcome and was going to be escorted out of the mansion. _

_ Whitney walked down the hallway and into the foyer slowly, her eyes were watching for Fox. But as she stepped into the large marble foyer, he was no where to be seen. She looked up the staircase that spanned up to the third floor, and then higher to the Swarovski crystal chandelier. _

_ "This way," she heard Fox's voice say. _

_ Whitney spun in the direction of his voice and searched for him. When she heard the echoes of his laughter, she walked towards the sound. She walked past the staircase and continued past one of the sitting rooms. Rounding the rounded corner, Whitney walked into a lighted room and discovered that she had never actually been inside despite the amount of times she had been to the mansion. _

_ "Welcome to my den," Fox said, his voice sighing as he sat back into a very comfy-looking arm chair.  
_

_ Whitney looked around, taking in the dark purple walls and deep mahogany furniture. Behind the large, solid desk was the Crane family crest made of bronze hanging on the wall. In the center was a crane, its wings outstretched and it's long neck arched as if in preparation for battle. On either side of the crane were two dead lions, their bodies flopped down low. Surrounding the scene of what looked like an impossible kill were bronze embellishments that flourished this way and that, all culminating into a V shape. _

_ "Purple?" Whitney asked, still looking around. _

_ Fox laughed and walked over to pour himself a drink of Louis XIII Black Pearl, his favorite cognac. "As dear ol' grandpappy always said, 'it's the color of royalty'." _

_ Whitney turned back to him. "Royalty? Never thought you'd pick up Alistair's way of thinking." _

_ Fox swallowed the contents of his glass. "Yeah… well, raised a Crane, always a Crane." _

_ Whitney smirked at him as she took a seat on one of the couches in the center of the room. When she looked down, she realized that her feet were perched on a beautiful Persian rug. She quickly made to lift her feet. _

_ "Don't worry about it, Whit. They're made to be under your feet." _

_ Fox poured two more glasses and walked over to hand one to Whitney. After she took it, he sat down next to her. He watched as she sipped the drink, her eyes closing as her throat warmed. _

_ "Let me guess, this glass costs a hundred bucks?"_

_ Fox looked away laughing and drank his glass quickly. "I'm not sure you want to know." Her eyes kept pressing for an answer so Fox obliged. "There's about twenty-five ounces in a bottle… So about… four thousand dollars an ounce." _

_ Whitney's eyes grew in her shock. "This glass costs four grand!"_

_ Fox laughed again, walking over to put his glass back on the wet bar. "No, I gave you two ounces." _

_ Whitney didn't say another word as she downed the brown liquid that cost more than she made in a month. _

_ "So…," Fox began, again sitting next to her. "Wanna tell me what's wrong?"_

_ Whitney looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"_

_ "Whit, let's not, okay? Just talk to me. I can tell something's bothering you."  
_

_ Whitney looked away, diverting her eyes from Fox's imposing glare. She couldn't believe that he had always been able to read her so well. Unfortunately, Theresa was always too consumed with her own problems to realize that those around her had some of their own as well. Even if Whitney had wanted to confide in Theresa, it wouldn't have mattered. The shoulder she needed wouldn't have been there without the menacing depression of the infamous Harmony triangle. _

_ Her eyes were being smothered by building tears and when she blinked, they fell, rolling to cheeks and down to her throat. _

_ "I saw Chad," she confessed. "Last week… when I was driving home from work. He was… he was uh… He was with Latoya…" _

_ Fox took her hand and Whitney looked over to him, freely crying now. _

_ "She's pregnant," Whitney said quickly. "They're going to have a baby." _

_ Then the sobbing grew to be faster and harder. Without even realizing it, Whitney fell against him. Fox cradled her like a child, soothing her with soft whispers and rocking her as if to calm a screaming baby. _

_ For a long time, Fox held her as she cried and moaned incomprehensible things into his shoulder. He could feel the liquid pooling into his shirt, but he disregarded the fact that his shirt was Armani and wasn't made for tears, snot and saliva. _

_ Finally, either because her eyes had dried up or because she was calming down, Whitney's tears slowed and stopped. _

_ "Hey… hey," Fox whispered as he pulled back from her, cradling her face in his hands. "Hey, I want you to listen to me, okay?" He stared into her swollen eyes, wet and red from crying. "Chad is—"_

_ "I loved him, Fox!" _

_ "I know, I know you loved him. I know. But listen, okay? Just listen. When Chad left Harmony to go back to Latoya, when he left you—"_

_ "Fox, please—"_

_ "Shh. When he left you, he was doing you a favor, Whit."_

_ She let out a bitter laugh through her tears. "How?"_

_ "He didn't deserve you, Whitney. The fact that he could leave you is proof of that."_

_ "No," she said, shaking her head and crying again. "No. I wasn't good enough for him." _

_ Anger rose in Fox's chest. "Whitney," he said louder than before. "Look at me."_

_ When she did, she looked up into his eyes. They were sharper than before, deeper and stronger. There was something in his brown eyes that she had never noticed before. Behind the Crane name, behind the expensive furnishings and the designer clothes, there was a man. He wasn't just a man that was a part of the most powerful family on the eastern seaboard, he was a good man that was just as much of a victim of Alistair as any other resident of Harmony. _

_ "You are a good person. And you are meant for happiness, Whitney Russell. I promise you." _

_ Fox swallowed and his entire body shook with the power of his words. He believed them and he was physically willing Whitney to believe them as well. Slowly, as he spoke the words, he saw that Whitney was beginning to believe him. He pushed a fallen curly tendril behind her ear._

_ And at that moment, Whitney knew that she was in love with him. _

_

* * *

_

Ever since that moment, Whitney had longed to see the same determined tenderness in Fox's eyes when he looked at her. But he hadn't. After that day, he never looked at her the same way again. He never held her close and whispered in her ears. She would have dreams about him. And eventually, those dreams became fantasizes. She would sometimes think about fabricating new reasons to go to him for comfort, but she could never follow through with them.

With the image of Fox's eyes looking into hers, with the memory of the way he pushed hair away from her face and made a promise of happiness, she closed her eyes and began telling her tale.

"Six days ago, I went to the Crane estate to check on Fox… and then he raped me." 

_

* * *

_

Though he had his new cane, Fox was walking with a slight limp. He was unable to put all of his weight on the cane because of the damage he'd just caused his good hand. With every step, he winced in pain of both his leg and his injured hand. He looked down at it and noticed the purple and blue starting to rise against the pallor of his skin. It didn't matter, though. It had to be done and for the first time in a long time, he felt as if things with Ethan were finally settled for good. He and Theresa were to be recommitted, Ethan was finally out of their lives; they were starting fresh without anyone or anything coming between them.

Much slower than he'd left the hospital, Fox walked to Theresa's room with the wrapped bouquet of flowers he'd bought tucked into the crook of his right arm. With every step, the tissue paper crinkled against his suit and alerted people in front of him that he was coming.

Finally at Theresa's room, he walked in and mentally warned himself to prevent Theresa from becoming aware of the damage he'd just inflicted to his hand. She would no doubt have questions and he didn't want her to think that he'd left in a jealous rage. The jealousy was an afterthought and one that wouldn't have risen to the surface if he hadn't seen Ethan on the way back to the hospital. Ethan's words still rang out in his head like a mind numbing bell that made his skull crack.

_Maybe I don't deserve her. But that's never stopped her from loving me._

The words sent angry blood pulsing into his very spine. Ethan was right, Fox knew. Theresa had loved him despite everything that had happened in the past years, and she loved him still, of that much Fox was certain. If she would ever get over the love, he didn't know. But he promised himself that after they were recommitted, he would do everything in his power to ensure that he was the only man she'd ever need or want. Yet again, it was a fool's dream.

"Fox," Theresa breathed, relieved. "Where have you been?"

Fox went to her immediately, laying the flowers on the bed at her side. "I'm sorry. Didn't the nurse tell you that I'd be back in a few minutes?"

Theresa shook her head, searching his eyes for any lingering sign that he regretted going back to her. While he was gone, she had feared that he'd taken back everything he'd said and run from her. She couldn't blame him though. He deserved far better than her and a part of her wanted him to leave her. A part of her, still, was devastated to find that he was gone. So she sat in her hospital room, counting the seconds to calm herself, hoping and waiting for him to return.

"I asked her to tell you," Fox said, growling as he turned towards the door. "I went to get you those." He gestured at the freesias. "I thought they might make you feel better."

Theresa pulled the bouquet up to her nose and inhaled. The fresh natural perfume filled her senses and gave her the briefest illusion that she was laying in the middle of a secluded meadow on a hillside. The colors were vibrant, even luxuriously so. For the second time that day, Theresa felt unworthy of his love and attention.

When Theresa opened her eyes to smile up at Fox in thanks, she noticed the new cane he was leaning on. She had seen the hideous gray monstrosity the hospital has given him. She didn't want to tell him, but she had hoped he wouldn't get attached to it. After they left the hospital, she'd decided, she would order one much more deserving of being his crutch.

"And that, I see," she said, her eyes falling to the new cane.

Fox followed her eyes down to the cane and lifted it, allowing her to inspect the fine African wood, silver and gold. He smirked.

"I passed the store. I had to. Did you see that thing they gave me?"

The mood was much lightened when Theresa laughed, nodding. When her eyes traveled across the fine wood, she followed the intricate silver designs up to the handle that was still clutched in Fox's hand. That's when she saw the swelling bruises around his knuckles.

"Fox, what happened to your hand?"

_Damn it,_ Fox cursed himself.

He stared down at his hand in bewilderment, almost trying to tell her that he had no idea. Yet, when he noticed just how swollen his hand was getting, he realized that whatever caused the bruises would definitely be something felt rather than missed.

"I… uh… fell out of the limo earlier." He looked at her for acceptance of his lie before he continued. "The cane missed the curb and I landed on my hand."

Theresa stared at him and watched as his eyes danced. That only happened when he lied. She wasn't sure why he would be lying about falling out of the limo, but she knew that whatever was the real cause for the swollen blue marks on his knuckles was something that he didn't want her to know. Even though she knew he was lying, she didn't say anything and turned her nose back into the bouquet she was holding.

"So, what do you say? Ready to leave this awful place?" he asked.

Theresa looked up to him and gathered every amount of courage she could. She wanted to leave the hospital as soon as possible, but she knew that she would be returning to the mansion. A part of her had begun to accept that she would never return to her life there. But she couldn't let Fox know how sad it made her to go back to the mansion that had been where she cried silently and where she'd shared memories with Ethan.

Instead, she simply smiled at Fox and nodded.

* * *

Right after his confrontation with Fox, Ethan knew it was much too soon have returned to work. Not only did his memories of Theresa and the pain of losing her consume him, but now his nose was bleeding and his face was becoming more sore by the passing minute. Again, trying his best to dodge anyone in the hallway, Ethan weaved in and out of people and quickly made his way back down to his car.

It was hard to get his suitcase and his duffle bag in the doorway at once, but finally after stumbling several times, Ethan got into his apartment. He'd just managed to kick his bags out of the way when closed the door and turned on the light. Everything was the same, familiar. But there was something lingering in the air that wasn't the same. Theresa.

Her smell, her perfume, was still pungent in the air. And suddenly Ethan knew that she had been in his apartment recently. He half expected her to come around the corner in an apron with fresh baked cookies. But he also knew the difference between a fantasy and possibility.

Ethan left his bags by the door as he walked through is apartment in the dark. The afghan he'd thrown over the arm of the sofa was still there, the coaster was still lonely on the coffee table, and her memory was still everywhere. Even before he'd left, she echoed in the very walls. Her laugh, her screams of pleasure, her moans, her sighs, her tears, her essence… she was trapped in his apartment. The fleeting thought of moving crossed his brain again, but at the same time he knew that he could never leave the one place behind that had come to hold so much of her within.

As he moved through the living room and past the kitchen, a familiar scent caught his nose. It wasn't just the faint hint of her perfume, but her the unique smell of her skin was filling his nostrils. He'd become so tuned to every single one of her tiniest details.

He was sure he was losing his mind. It had been over two weeks that Theresa had been in his apartment. Perhaps the smell he was receiving was still on him, his clothes, his skin. Though he'd taken a shower and scrubbed as well as he could to rid himself of her smell, she must have stayed with him somehow. And he was thankful for it.

Without really thinking, Ethan walked through his darkening apartment, only noticing the dancing of the day's last sunrays flash on the carpet. When he walked into his room, he smelled her again, this time stronger.

The light in his closet was on and he realized that he must have forgotten to turn it off. It was as if his nose were ultrasensitive; he could swear that Theresa could have been standing right next to him with the strength of her smell around him.

Memories flooded his brain—all of Theresa. All he could see was her skin, warm and smooth and darker than his own. It was a deep olive, a natural tan that looked too inviting not to touch. He'd always loved the way her dark hair spilled to her back, always curling in the right places and moving between his fingers as if meant to.

And suddenly his ears were filled of her screams, her moans. First they were of pleasure, echoing in his ears as if he were moving above and within her. Slowly, the sounds grew harsher, deeper, louder. Eventually, the sounds grew to pained sighs, sobbing, and agonized moans.

Ethan opened his eyes and looked over to his bed and was struck as if someone punched him in the chest. In the middle of his bed, almost hidden with mulled sheets, was a dark red stain that had settled into an almost brown color. But it was still red. And it was blood. Theresa's blood.

Ethan stared at the large stain in shock, not understanding how it got there and why. He did know, however, without a doubt, that the blood belonged to Theresa. The way his body reacted just being near it, he knew.

He walked closer to the bed, the stain growing closer and closer to him. He imagined Theresa lying in his bed, wrapped in his sheets and pillows, and the blood pooling from her body. His heart twisted in pain just thinking about what caused her injury. That was when he thought back to his confrontation with Fox.

_She had a miscarriage, Ethan. The baby's gone._

Ethan's mind was spinning. He was staring at the bloody stain, unsure of how he could know that it was Theresa's blood. He imagined her lying in his bed, alone and screaming in pain.

A part of him was reeling in grief for the lost child. While he knew that the baby wasn't his, and that Theresa had chosen to be a family with Fox, he had allowed himself to fantasize however briefly that he could be part of that imaginary family. He hoped that Theresa would realize that her duty to her heart was greater than the duty to the child's genes. Besides, it was family tradition to pass boys off as the child of a different man.

_ And it's all your fault!_

It echoed in his head over and over again. Ethan wasn't sure just how Theresa's miscarriage could have been his fault. Still, staring at the stain seemed to pulse the reality into him that it was his fault. He caused it without really knowing how.

_I found it in Theresa's office… a few hours before she was rushed to the hospital._

The letter.

Ethan's breath got caught in his chest. His entire body froze.

He remembered writing the letter in his car. The pen tried to press through the paper into the grooves in the steering wheel and his hand shook with each word he wrote. He knew he didn't have a choice if Theresa was going to choose to stay with Fox. He had to leave her life; he had no other choice.

Ethan knew that Theresa would take his letter hard, but he had no idea just how much it would tear her apart. Fox was right. It was his fault. If his letter was what caused her so much stress that she miscarried… he was a murderer.

Ethan fell to his knees next to his bed, the red stain coming closer to his line of view. The stain was not just blood, it wasn't just Theresa, it was the unborn child—it was a life. A life he took because of his stupidity and cowardice.

On his knees, Ethan pulled a pillow to his face and used it to muffle his screams. He cried for what seemed like hours. He cried for Theresa, for the child, and even for Fox. He'd never felt more guilty in his life.

* * *

Fox breathed a sigh of relief as he plopped down Theresa's Louis Vuitton suitcase, albeit one much too large for a two day hospital stay. But any woman worthy of calling herself a lady never traveled without the necessary cosmetics, and they always took up more room than clothes.

"What did you put in here?" he asked, straightening himself up putting all of his weight on his cane.

Theresa laughed. "Have you seen my side of the bathroom?"

Fox's eyes grew as he looked down to the moderately-sized suitcase. "You fit all of that in there?"

"Of course not," Theresa said, laughing again. "I had Harold only pick up the essentials."

The essentials? Fox looked down at the suitcase and realized that it was twice the size of one he would have taken with him on a two week stay abroad. Though he'd grown up in a house where the women owned every primping and priming and polishing substance known to the luxury world, it always seemed to amaze him how simple it was for a man to simply get dressed and walked outside. He didn't envy women at all.

Fox began wheeling the suitcase towards the stairs and Theresa rushed to stop him.

"What are you doing?"

Fox eyed her suspiciously. "Were you planning on camping out in the middle of the foyer, Theresa?" For a brief instant, he was afraid that she didn't want to unpack her belongings and put them back where they belonged—next to his things. "Is there something wrong?"

Theresa didn't miss the dark panic that flitted across his face. "Fox, you really expect to make it up two flights of stairs with a cane in one hand and a suitcase in the other? Just leave it. River'll get it."

"I gave him the day off. Everyone, actually. I figured we could use some time to ourselves."

Theresa smiled through the dread she was beginning to feel. She wasn't sure just what Fox had in mind, but she also had to remind herself that she was his wife and she promised to remain as such.

"Oh," she said, looking down to the suitcase. "Well, I'll take it up. If you fall and break your other leg, you'll only have one hand to wheel yourself around in."

Fox chuckled. "Hey, my leg isn't broken. It's just fractured."

"Yes," Theresa said as she began ascending the stairs to the second floor. "Big difference."

Just before she was out of sight, Fox called up to her, "Hurry back down. I'll put a fire on."

Theresa didn't say anything as she lugged her suitcase up the second staircase to the third floor. There was a sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite place. Fox sending away the servants and suggesting a fire seemed too romantic for what had happened in their lives recently. Still, she asked herself, how long was he supposed to wait before he began treating her like his proper wife again?

A few minutes later, after Theresa deposited her suitcase on her side of the bed, she changed into a comfortable yoga outfit and went to join Fox downstairs. He'd left the light off in the sitting room, the second and much larger one, and there was an orange blaze burning in the hearth in the center of the room. Unlike most fireplaces, this one did not have a wall behind it. Instead, it could be viewed on both sides as it was the very focal point of the room.

Fox lounged on the chocolate brown leather sofa directly in front of the fire with his arm over the back. He'd removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt. As Theresa stepped around the sofa, she sat on the arm farthest away from Fox and stared into the fire.

"In the mood for s'mores and campfire songs?" she asked him, not looking in his direction.

Fox looked over at her and said nothing to answer. In the glow from the fireplace, she looked exquisite. She was out of her clothes into a simple yoga outfit, her hair up in a messy bun. Still, she was breathtaking to him.

"Come here," Fox whispered.

Theresa turned to him slowly and complied. She sat next to him and folded herself against his body as the arm he had thrown over the back of the couch wrapped around her. Fox leaned in and breathed through her hair, pulling in her familiar scent.

"It's so nice to be home," he sighed into her hair.

Theresa nodded against his chest. She stared in the fire and watched as the flames licked and danced in different directions.

Fox's arm tightened around her waist and pulled her a little closer. "I missed you."

The sincerity in his voice startled Theresa and brought a glassiness to her eyes. She didn't know what to say so she simply nodded again and snuggled closer.

The two sat that way, wrapped in each other and watching the flames. At first Theresa had been frightened that Fox may have had other expectations, but she was beginning to realize that he just wanted to spend time with her and simply spend time. He wanted her company. At the thought, she felt more guilty than she had earlier. She had realized that she had denied him of one of the most important aspects of a marriage: quality time. It was her job as his wife to spend time with him. Just because they were married didn't mean that the time had to spend in bed.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly.

Theresa stared in the flames and tried to pick out shapes and words. Usually, if she focused hard enough, she was able to see something in them. Today, however, she only saw flickering flames.

"Theresa?" Fox asked.

"Hmm?" she asked, jerking. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just… exhausted."

Fox nodded. He knew that she had a lot to be both physically and emotionally exhausted over. He didn't want to bring up the baby and the miscarriage, but he'd been secretly wishing that they might try to get pregnant as soon as possible. The prospect of being a father made him realize just how badly he wanted to go to little league games and ballet recitals.

"Yeah…," he sighed. "Maybe we should save the fire for another day and get up to bed, huh?"

Theresa shook her head against the wall of his chest. "No. I want to stay down here for a while."

The far off look in her eyes told him that the fire was helping her think through things, and he knew she needed it. So he pulled her even closer and nodded his agreement. He wanted to whisper comforting things in her ear, to tell her that it would everything would be fine. He'd even gotten the passing idea of having a memorial built for the baby they'd lost. And what would have been the name? But he didn't think she was ready to discuss things like that.

Minutes turned into an hour and they still sat in front of the burning fire, the flames still as high in the specially engineered gas fireplace. Fox looked down occasionally to see if Theresa had fallen asleep, but she was still awake, the expression of sorrow still very much on her face.

The doorbell rang and Fox looked toward the doorway as if expecting to see River running past to greet whatever visitor it might be. Theresa didn't move, perhaps too entranced in the fire to notice the bell. Fox debated on whether or not to open the door. He was sure the only person it could have been was Whitney, and he wasn't sure it was the right time to invite her in. But as he looked down at his adored wife, he realized that it was not just about him. If Theresa needed her best friend in a time like this, he wouldn't deny her the best source of comfort.

As Fox shifted to get up, Theresa looked up to him with a confused pout. He explained that he was just going to check the door and he'd return as soon as possible. Theresa didn't say anything and fell to lay her head where Fox was just sitting. She looked almost fetal in the way she curled her body and folded into herself.

Fox stared at her in the doorway and had the mind to stay with her and damn anyone at the door. But as the bell rang again, he decided he could spare a few seconds.

He walked down the hallway to the front door and finally pulled it open. He was ready to tell Whitney that she might need to return the following day after Theresa had some time to herself. But with the door open, he realized that it wasn't who he was expecting at all.

"Nicholas Foxworth Crane?" a uniformed officer asked him.

"Yes?" Fox replied, confused.

The two officers looked at each other and exchanged silent nods. Without another word, they stepped into the home. The shorter man went around Fox and grabbed his hands, effectively positioning them behind his back ready for handcuffs. The taller officer stood in front of Fox and watched for good measure.

"What—what is going on here? What are you doing?" Fox asked as the handcuffs were slapped into place behind him.

"Mr. Crane, you're being placed under arrest," the tall officer explained.

"What?" Fox asked, incredulous. "Arrest? For what?"

The cast he wore on his wrist was too bulky to fit in the cuff so the officer removed the one already placed on his good wrist. Fox could hear the clank of metal as it was removed.

"Sir, if you don't come with us, I'm afraid we'll have to use force," the short one said now that the cuffs were back on his belt.

"What is going on?" Fox asked again. "Theresa!" he screamed. "Theresa!"

Theresa heard Fox calling from the foyer and she sluggishly pulled herself up to investigate. The closer she got to the door, she began to hear more and more movement as if there people coming in carrying equipment. Finally as she rounded the end of the hallway, she saw two Harmony police officers and Fox standing with his hands behind his back.

"Fox!" Theresa yelled as she ran to him. "What's going on?" she asked the two officers.

"Theresa," he said with relief.

"Ma'am, we have a warrant for your husband's arrest," the tall one explained.

"What? On what charges?" she asked, her world starting to spin.

Fox turned to the officers as well, waiting for the answer.

"Ma'am," the tall officer began rather uncomfortably, "I'm afraid we can't disclose that information yet. Not until we get to the station. "

Theresa moved closer to the tall officer. "What are the charges?" she asked again, this time each word harder than before.

The shorter officer began trying to walk Fox out the front door and Theresa still waited for an explanation, ready to attack the intruders at any second.

"There has been an accusation of assault," the tall officer explained shyly.

Theresa looked after her husband as he was walked down the steps of their home.

"Who's accusing him of what?" she asked, the hard tone still in her voice.

The short officer opened the door to the squad car and bent Fox's head as he was put inside. The two officers exchanged glances and Theresa stared at Fox.

"Answer me," she demanded. The cold edge was returning to her attitude and if she had to, she would pull the Crane card on their asses before they knew what had hit them.

The tall officer turned back to her and sighed in resign. He shifted from foot to foot before looking back in the furious woman's eyes.

"Mr. Crane has been accused of sexual assault, ma'am," he whispered loud enough for her hear. The way he bowed his head was as if he were apologizing for having to be the one to deliver the news.

Theresa felt as if she were going to fall backwards when the officer told her the charge. It wasn't possible. Fox was quite possibly the most gentle man she'd ever known, despite the fact that he'd been raised by Julian Crane. He had witnessed first hand how taking advantage of women was horrendous and soul-damaging.

_But,_ Theresa said to herself, _he is Julian's son and Alistair's grandson. He's still a Crane. _

She mentally slapped herself for even thinking him capable of something so horrific. Still in a daze, she began thinking to when it was even possible for him to commit such a crime. The only time she could think of was when he went to Hong Kong for the deal with Jin X Imports. But as she looked down to the patrol car, she could see Fox looking at her through the backseat window. His eyes told her everything.

He was innocent. He would never take a woman against her will, that she knew.

Without another word, the taller officer bowed his head in apology at Theresa and proceeded to walk down the front stairs. Fox stared at Theresa, his eyes still telling of his innocence and sorrow. That was when Theresa felt something in the pit of her stomach, deep in her gut. She knew the accuser, without a doubt.

Both she and Fox knew that there was only one person that could have accused him, though the accusation wasn't true.

Whitney.

Without knowing what else to do, Theresa watched as the police car pulled out of the drive and onto the street. Fox was gone.

* * *

Theresa was going to embrace her last name. She was going to use it just as she had at Ethan and Mariel's apartment buildings. She was a Crane, her husband was a Crane, and she was not going to stand for the injustice being done. She knew without a doubt that Fox was innocent of whatever sexual assault charges were being brought against him, and she was going to prove it.

Shortly after Fox was hauled away in the squad car, Theresa ran upstairs and dumped the contents of her Louis Vuitton suitcase. She scrambled through travel bags and makeup kits to find what she needed and then proceeded to rush into the master bathroom adjoining her room. She made a mess of bottles and jars and creams and applicators and brushes and sprays and pencils.

Half an hour later, Theresa strung a line of antique pearls—the finishing touch—around her neck. Once belonging to Fox's great-grandmother's great-grandmother, they had been a gift on their honeymoon. She only wore them when she wanted to channel the strength of the first Crane women, hoping they were still tied to the beautiful pearls.

She checked the mirror once more to make sure her hair was well curled at the ends, nodding at herself when she saw that she needed no more hairspray, and she checked her teeth to make sure her Russian Red lipstick hadn't smudged. Everything was perfect, she decided. Her liner was perfectly winged, her lips perfectly red, her hair perfectly and expertly handled. And her outfit, it was power personified.

Theresa wore a simple outfit of her very own design. A form-fitting white blouse was tucked into her black knee-length pencil skirt just above her waist. She stared at herself in the mirror and was pleased. It was a relatively simple outfit, definitely not something that would she would showcase at Fashion Week, but it did the job. When she wore her power outfit, she was a Crane. And when she was a Crane, she could do anything.

She would do anything.

But that was when she realized that she was unsure of what to do at all. She knew that she had to get Fox out of jail, at least long enough to get to the bottom of everything, and that of course meant that she would need her lawyers.

Theresa took a deep breath and pulled her phone from her pocket. Calming herself, Theresa scrolled through her numbers to end on Larry Giacca, her attorney. He'd managed to secure Ethan and Mariel's buildings for her. He could possibly tear into whatever inexcusable charges were being brought against Fox.

And what if he couldn't? What if the charges were too great for Larry to talk his way out of? Larry was her employee, yes, but employees would only go as far as money allowed them. He had no attachment to Fox or to getting him out of jail.

Theresa walked backwards in her bathroom until her knees hit the toilet. She sat down still staring at her phone, wondering if she should press the call button. Larry was also always after his own fame; he'd no doubt have the mind to let Fox's situation leak out into the media and the Crane name would once again carry the criminally smudged prestige of Alistair's time.

No, she couldn't allow that to happen.

Even if she threatened Larry's entire life and his family, he was still a lawyer and that meant he was slippery enough to assume he could get something past her. She couldn't take the chance of him ruining everything Fox had worked for to cleanse his family name.

The light on her phone eventually went out and her phone went black. She knew she couldn't call Larry Giacca, or any of her other attorneys for that matter. She needed someone she could trust with her privacy, and with the best outcome for Fox.

When she realized what she had to do, her phone fell from her fingertips and clattered against the marble tile.

* * *

Harold had had quite a few days of anticipation, being at Theresa's beck and call during her excursions all over the town. She hadn't forgotten that he had a fragile ticker and she didn't want to burn him out. When he tried to assure her that he was fine and usher her into usual black limousine, she refused again and again.

"Thank you, Harold. But no. I'll be fine on my own."

She didn't allow him any more excuses or false assurances. She'd seen the way he'd begun looking a little thin around the edges, and she didn't want a heart attack on her conscience. After ordering Harold to take a week off—paid, of course—and to rest as much as possible, Theresa walked around the mansion to the back. It was an extensive walk, at least ten minutes, to get to the other side of the grounds. Finally, she hit the cement drive of the garage.

She and Fox rarely used the garage at all. It was more a house for the toys he couldn't help but indulge in whenever he went to a car show in Italy or Germany. They both had their own limos complete with drivers, thus there was no need to drive themselves.

Theresa punched in the code to open the elaborate garage on the side of the outer wall. Thankfully, Fox had made it easy to remember by making all the alarm codes her birthday followed by their wedding day.

The garage doors opened, all six of them. Theresa breezed past the black Ferrari 599 GTB, the 1962 forest green Bentley S3, the gold Rolls Royce Phantom, the silver Aston Martin Rapide, the midnight blue Bugatti Veyron, the 1994 burnt orange McLaren S1, and the 1957 red Mercedes-Benz 300 SL Roadster. And that was just the left side of the garage; Theresa didn't even pay attention to the other side as she made her way over to her black Mercedes-Benz CL-Class in the corner.

Fox had insisted that if she was going to get a car, to get a more expensive and impressive car. But Theresa refused. She needed a car that wouldn't be gawked at when she drove, if ever. At first, when Fox insisted that she refrain from driving herself and hire a driver, Theresa hated the idea of embracing too much of the wealthy lifestyle. But after a while, she came to rely on Harold and loved never having to worry about parking.

She could have asked Harold to drive her, and she was sure that he would most likely have been happy to do so. But she had quickly begun to realize that it was time to grow up. She was a grown woman and she needed to start taking responsibility like one. Now that she was going to assert the power that her name gave her, she needed to be strong on her own; even if that meant driving herself for a little while.

As Theresa pulled the driver door open, she flinched when she thought she saw a person standing on the opposite side of the garage. She laughed to herself when she saw that it was simply her reflection in the mirror, as all the walls were covered in mirrors like a ballet studio. Theresa looked around at the reflective walls for a beat and wondered just why Fox wanted his cars in a ballet studio—the cars he never drove and very rarely visited.

As she thought of Fox, Theresa realized that there were far more pressing issues needing her attention. Theresa threw her purse into the passenger seat and slid into the leather. She put her key into the ignition and right away the entire dashboard lit up with different buttons and options and the weird extras that Fox had put into the car. She wasn't interested and made sure everything was off before she got confused. The navigation device had begun speaking, asking her for a destination. Theresa punched it and it turned off.

Wearing her power pearls, and her power lipstick, Theresa put the car in gear and drove out of the massive garage and out into the night with only her destination in mind.

She drove like a mad woman, almost twice the speed limit. The screech of her tires at every turn made her wince in embarrassment, but something like fear of getting pulled over was the least of her worries. Finally she pulled into the dark black parking lot of Motel Harmony and screeched her way over to the white door at the far end. The sign behind her was flashing a large and red VACANCY and it lighted her with an eerie red glow as she got out of the car.

She didn't turn the engine off and she simply hopped out and ran to the door, pounding on it loudly. She pounded and pounding, alternately twisting the knob to see it the door would budge. Nothing happened and no one answered the door. Without knowing what else to do, Theresa ran to the other side of the motel, her pencil skirt severely limiting her movement in heels that were already difficult to move in.

When she got to the office, she eyed down the manager as he looked at her like she was something to eat rather than a customer. He gave her what must have been his version of a panty-dropping smile and smoothed his thinning hair over his almost-bald head.

"What can I help you with, sweetheart?"

The twinkle in his eye reminded Theresa of something she would undoubtedly see on a child's face before opening the biggest box under the tree on Christmas.

"The Honeymoon Suite," Theresa gasped breathlessly. "Where's the guy that was in the Honeymoon Suite?"

The manager was only gaping at her, staring at her body up and down, his tongue peeking out against his lips in a very not-so-subtle manner.

"Sorry, did you leave something in there?" he asked, hoping that he might have the chance to show her the room. Alone.

Theresa walked closer to the desk and dropped her hand on the small silver bell, dinging into the tense silence.

"No, where's the man that was staying there? Ethan Winthrop? Did he check out?"

The manager sucked the tip of his tongue down his front teeth and made a disturbing sound. "Yeah, checked out this afternoon. Said the renovations were done at his place."

Theresa stared at him with an open mouth for a split second, her mind toying with the idea of renovations. She knew that Ethan's apartment wasn't being renovated because she had been there just the day before. It was undoubtedly his excuse for having to stay in a motel for several days. But after what had happened between them there, he no doubt couldn't stay there any longer.

"If you'd like, I can show you the room," the manager offered. "It's a beautiful room, real spacious," he continued. He's already grabbed his keys and was adjusting himself in his pants as he stepped around the desk.

But Theresa bolted from the desk and ran—walked as fast as she could in her heels—to her car on the other side of the dark parking lot. Finally, she got into her Mercedes and sped past the blinking red light and out into traffic again.

A piece of her chest was pushing and pulling against itself and she couldn't help but think that she knew that he wouldn't be there. A part of her was happy that she hadn't had to face him, but that was yet to come, she knew.

When she arrived, Theresa merely pulled up to the curb and parked, not caring if she was allowed to park there or not. She had much more pressing issues than a parking ticket and that was definitely something Larry Giacca could litigate his way through, if need be.

Theresa walked through the revolving door and marched her way toward the elevators, not even bothering to look in the security guard's way. Her arm tightened down on the clutch tucked against her body and as an act of independence, her other hand went to hold it in place as she held her head even higher.

"Uh, Miss…?" the security guard said, standing from his chair.

Immediately, Theresa's eyes tightened as she spun on her heel and faced him. It was the same man that had created obstacles for her before, only his face was a little less severe this time.

"Mrs. Crane," he said breathlessly when he realized who he was speaking to.

"Yes?" Theresa said, her voice hard and cold and demanding. She made sure it was the same voice she used in business meetings. She might not have been born with the name of Crane, but she sure as hell could live up to it if she needed to.

The dark security guard bowed in apology as if he'd forgotten that he was in American rather than in Japan. He hid his eyes from her view, making sure to always look down as if her eyes would turn him to stone like the mythological goddess Medusa.

"Yes?" Theresa repeated, this time even harder, her teeth clenched. She would be damned if she let anyone get in her way today. After everything she'd been through, she couldn't deal with any more roadblocks.

The man kept his eyes down and bowed even lower. Theresa smiled to herself knowing that the passed-down power pearls must be working. She fingered them absentmindedly.

"Uh…," stuttered the guard. "Have—have a good night," he said quickly. Too quickly.

Theresa smirked and turned around before he stood upright, having no interest in the have-mercy-please-pity-me stare that he was sure to be giving her. She walked to the elevator and was glad that she didn't have to wait for it to be called down. She stepped into the car and as the silver doors closed before her, the power faded and was lost in the air around her.

Theresa could feel it as if the air were being sucked from her lungs in an enormous vacuum. Her hand went up to grab the pearls strung around her neck, but the power was gone. She mashed her lips together hoping that the bright red would make her fierce once again. It didn't. Where there was once confidence and strength now lingered fear and nervousness.

The mashing of her lips made her paranoid the higher she ascended. She pulled a small mirror from her clutch and checked her teeth for any red stains. She was unfortunate enough to have smeared the Russian Red all over her bottom teeth. She began panicking even more.

There was a ding above her head and she saw that she was only one floor away. Milliseconds later, the doors slid open slowly in front of her. She stepped out and fumbled with her fingers to find a tissue in her purse. It wasn't a large purse by any means; probably not much bigger than an average wallet. Still, she couldn't find it. She pushed pens and mascara and keys aside until she was able to grab a tissue. She fumbled with the mirror again as she tried to clean the red off her teeth. In doing so, she smeared some Russian Red off her lips and on her chin.

"God!" Theresa screamed softly to herself.

She stood in the empty hallway attempting to scrub off the red from her chin and teeth. Her teeth were now clean, thankfully. The smear of red on her chin, however, was a different story. It looked as though she and her boyfriend had just finished making out in the janitor's closet in high school.

_Ironic,_ she thought.

Frantic now, Theresa wiped at her chin until the tissue was dissolved into tiny frothy balls. Her power lipstick was gone and her heart was pounding erratically. After packing the residual tissue into her purse along with her mirror, Theresa stood alone in the empty hallway staring at the door a few feet to her right.

The longer she stared, the more she wanted to get back in the elevator and head back down to her car. But she was alone, completely alone in the world, and there was always one other person that took that away. And he was on the other side of the door.

With a slightly pinkish-red stain on her chin, Theresa put her hand to the door and knocked, fingering her pearls for strength of the regal and elegant Crane women that came before her, before any of her destiny had been decided.

She waited a beat and cleared her throat, the pulsing in her torso a sign that butterflies were the wrong word to describe what she felt. They were more like dragons, huge angry dragons with scales made of titanium and they were scratching against her stomach walls like knives.

She knocked again, this time harder and a little longer.

"Coming," she heard on the other side of the door.

The nerves in her body went full force and flooded her veins with tension. She was pulled taught like a violin string and she stood as straight and tall as she could. Her hand was gripping the pearls around her neck so tight she was sure that one of them would shattered into dust in her fingertips.

Before her fingers could grow any tighter on the pearls, she saw the light in the peephole covered by a curious eye no doubt. Without time to exhale, the door flew open and Ethan pulled her body against his hard, knocking any breath she might have had in her body completely out.

Ethan held her tight against him as he walked backwards into his apartment, closing the door with his foot swiftly. He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply and quickly.

Theresa tried to breathe, but was only met with his scent. It was the same heady and musky clean scent that was a combination of his shampoo, laundry soap, and faint traces of the cologne he wore. It was like heaven after a long draught in purgatory.

Just as she was about to pull in another deep breath for her aching lungs, Ethan pulled her face from his chest and kissed her. It was tender and sensual just as it was hard and rushed. Theresa needed no coaxing or argument to kiss him back, which she did without thinking; her body could only respond naturally with him.

Everything that they'd felt in their separation was poured into their mouths; anguish, pain, fear, anger, hesitation. Still, it's just as simple and natural as it had always been for them. It's almost as if they'd never been apart at all.

Theresa couldn't help it when his tongue traced her bottom lip in a silent plea for her to open to him. She did, tilting her head and parting her lips willingly, allowing him access. Ethan pulled her face closer to his with his large hands, his tongue plundering her mouth sweetly as if looking for a forgotten treasure. As their lips broke for a quick breath of air, Theresa's tongue asked permission of his mouth and her graciously let her in as well.

They were both lost for breath, their chests heaving, but air was no longer important. Nothing could compare to the feeling of being close to one another, despite whatever sordid circumstances their lives were in.

Afraid that she might pass out, Theresa reluctantly pulled back from Ethan and sucked in air quickly. Neither had opened their eyes as Ethan rested his lips on her forehead, once again pulling in her scent. Theresa could feel the exhale of breath through his nose against her hairline and timed it with her own, synching them together.

They held each other, still not speaking, both their eyes were closed and Theresa couldn't help but revel in the feel of his lips against her skin. Minutes passed, and then more minutes. Still, neither moved and neither spoke. Their hearts were calming against each other, their pulsing familiar and equal.

Finally, when their breathing and their heartbeats were back to a normal rhythm, Ethan pulled back and tilted her face up with his hands. He needed to see her eyes. Theresa's heavy eyelids slowly lifted and the deep brown that Ethan loved was revealed to him.

Theresa wanted to say something and just as she opened her mouth to speak, his mouth was covering hers again. This kiss was softer than the first, but still as intense. Their tongues met briefly, and it was just as electric in feeling. Ethan moaned into her mouth and she felt his hands sliding up and down her sides in a familiar way. His hands grew more frantic, stronger and more sensual against her. First his palms were only on her ribs, then they were escalating to cup her breasts.

A declaration of desire.

Theresa moaned back into his mouth and pushed herself forward more into his hands.

Ethan broke their kiss for oxygen and turned his attention to her neck, worshiping the skin there with sucks and licks and kisses. Theresa was just allowing herself to feel, to get fully lost in the way it felt to have his mouth against her skin and his hands on her body once again.

Then her eyes popped open as if something had just bitten her.

As she pulled back, Ethan still didn't open his eyes, thinking that she was only trying to get more oxygen. She pulled back further and his hands fell from her breasts back down to his sides. Theresa stared at his face, his open red mouth, his heaving chest, and she wanted to kiss him again. Just as she felt herself bending towards him, she stopped herself.

Being so close to him was too tempting for her not to act on instinct so she moved past him and walked over to one of the couches in the living room. Ethan stood with his eyes closed, waiting for him to put herself in his arms again. But she didn't. When he opened his eyes, he thought he was losing his mind. For sure he had begun hallucinating. Either that or he'd had too much to drink.

Ethan lowered his head and let out a deep and pained sigh. He could taste her on his tongue, feel the weight of her breasts in his hands, the tug of her fingers on the nape of his neck.

"She felt so real," he said quietly to himself.

Theresa cleared her throat slowly and swallowed in guilt. She hated that she was torturing him. She should have put a stop to the kiss immediately. Letting herself to get carried away would only hurt them both more in the end.

"It was real," she admitted. "I'm sorry."

Ethan turned, his eyes wide and confused. He stared at her and saw her red and swollen mouth and somehow knew that she wasn't an apparition. Besides, it felt much too real to be a figment of his imagination despite just how many memories he'd stored away in his mind for later reflection.

Theresa knew that he was coming towards her and could only look down at her fingernails. She hadn't gotten a manicure in far too long and her cuticles were growing at jungle speed. She wedged longer nails into her cuticles and pushed them down as low as she could. Somehow, in the time it took for her to get into the elevator and into Ethan's arms, the power she had felt streaming into her bones from the Russian Red and the heirloom pearls was completely gone.

After staring at her for several minutes, Ethan's feet began to move and he was able to walk over to her. She sat on the far end of the couch and he took the other, separating them by about three feet of space. They were both quiet, far too quiet. Theresa stared at her fingers, Ethan stared at Theresa.

"Theresa?" he said softly.

Though she heard him, she didn't turn to him and turned to the cuticle on another finger, pushing it down into the skin until it hurt.

"Why did you…?" he asked hesitantly.

Theresa could still feel the smooth underside of his tongue rubbing against hers and she wish she had an answer that would suffice. She pulled away because she had to, not because she wanted to. If she'd had her way, she would have left his hands on her breasts, allowed him to unbutton her shirt and throw it to the ground, unzip her skirt, and pull her naked body against his. But it was no longer about what she wanted. It was about what she had to do.

Still without an answer, Ethan grabbed her hand and stopped the picking sound that was near driving him insane. He held his hand in her lap gingerly, surveying it as if it were a diamond on display. He traced her palm with his fingertip. The lines he found there he knew better than the ones on his own hands. He fingered her lifeline, tracing it back and forth. Ethan drew over the line that curved down to her wrist over and over, thanking the creator of the cosmos that she had a lifeline at all because his was undoubtedly tied to it.

Theresa felt her eyes rolling back, simply enjoying the mere touch of his fingertip against her skin. It was as if he were putting her in a trance with the way he was touching her, lulling her to sleep as it were. She felt the tension and nerves that had been consuming her leave her completely. When she opened her eyes, she saw Ethan staring at her intently. But he said nothing.

They shared a silent look, both unsure of what to say and what to do. Theresa knew that they needed to put distance between them, but it was also unbearable to be so far away from him when she didn't have to be. Without giving it another thought, Theresa scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder.

At first, Ethan was shocked by her gesture, unsure of how to read it. He wanted to pull her closer, much closer. But as she nuzzled into his shoulder further, he was granted some kind of permission to get even closer. He put his around her back and pressed her to him closer, resting his chin on her head, both having yet to speak a word.

"I missed you," Theresa said suddenly, as if she couldn't control her own tongue anymore. The lump that managed to collect in her throat was shocking to have grown so fast. Her body wanted what it wanted and it wanted Ethan.

Still without a word, Ethan dropped the hand whose lines he'd been tracing. Now free, his hand went to cup her cheek, bringing it closer into his shoulder. His thumb lazily traced up and down on her cheekbone.

They sat like that for a long time, both soaking in the presence of the other. Theresa's mind could only linger on the feeling of Ethan's hand on her cheek, his warmth on her skin. She could tell, though she wasn't looking, that his hands were calloused and getting far too dry. But it didn't matter; they were his hands and she would rather them calloused and rough against her skin than absent altogether.

Ethan cleared his throat and bobbed his Adam's apple against her forehead as he prepared to speak, and as he broke the silence, the air around them seemed to part like curtains of tension.

"I'm sorry… Fox told me about the baby… I'm so sorry, Theresa."

Two things happened at once. At the mention of Fox, everything around them came to a crashing halt. The air became more tense, their moods suddenly more heavy. And at the mention of her baby, the baby that would never be, a tear suddenly threatened in her eye and she had to mentally force herself to hold in the rest of her tears.

Theresa's eyes opened and she stared out at the wall and the simple artwork Ethan had adorning it. Without another word, reluctantly, Theresa pulled away from Ethan and sat up straight, far enough away from him so that they were no longer touching. She had to cast her eyes away from his questioning stare.

"Theresa?" Ethan asked as she made her way back to the other side of the couch.

Refusing to look at him, Theresa kept her eyes down on her nails and began the pushing of her cuticles. The nail bed on her ring finger of her right hand was getting quite raw with all the force she was using and she was sure that blood was beginning to seep out. She absentmindedly noticed that the color was almost exactly that of MAC's Russian Red.

No wonder it made her feel powerful.

"Theresa?" he said, this time more desperate in hopes that she would look at him. She did.

When she finally looked up, Theresa was met with his eyes. The blueness was like a sharp aquamarine dagger plunging into her chest. The hope she saw in his eyes was the same that she had see in Fox's when he asked for her hand in recommitment. Both men were desperately hoping that she'd pick them in the end.

The hope, though, she knew, was already lost. It wasn't that they each didn't deserve to hope—because they did—or that they weren't worthy of her love—because they were. Ethan's hope was lost because she'd unfortunately already made her decision and she'd made a promise. And this time, she'd keep it.

Even though his eyes were sharply blue, almost painfully blue, there were dark purple and blue marks on his face that distracted what would have been her otherwise undivided attention.

On the right side of his nose and spreading up to his cheekbone, as if just a large smudge, was a dark patch, yellowing around the edges. Above his lip was a crusty, thin scab where blood had already dried. That area carried the same dark blue and purple hue that was beginning to fade into a disgusting greenish-yellow color.

Theresa's hand floated up to his face and her thumb rubbed the bruises gingerly. She hated seeing him hurt, even if it was just a swollen lip and a bruised face. Any injury hurt her just as much as it undoubtedly hurt him.

"What happened?" she asked, analyzing his face even further.

Ethan tried to turn his head away from her gaze, but she wouldn't allow him to. She scrutinized his wounds like a mother nursing a beaten child come home from the playground.

"Uh… It was stupid. I, uh, I just left a cabinet open and I turned around and… I walked into it." He chuckled softly and bowed his head as he laughed. "Graceful, huh?"

Theresa heard what he was saying, and though it seemed like a good enough explanation, there was also something familiar about the way he said it and blamed himself. No man would admit to such clumsiness with such a light heart. A man like Ethan would have just laughed it off and left it at "stupid" rather than giving her an explanation. A man like Ethan… A man like Fox.

The bruises on Fox's hand.

The bruises on Ethan's face.

And Ethan had said that Fox was the one to tell him about the baby.

Theresa gasped in a quick breath. "I'm sorry," she said softly, apologetically.

Ethan looked down to her, finally able to turn his bruises from her eyes.

"For what?" he asked. "I left it open, not you."

Theresa stared deep into his eyes to silently tell him that she knew he was lying. Ethan wasn't as easy to read with lies as Fox was, but it was still there in a simple exaggeration of his voice.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Fox shouldn't have…"

Ethan breathed a long sigh, not surprised that she was able to get the truth out of him even without telling her directly.

"It's not like I didn't deserve it, Theresa," he admitted, his voice cracking as if he were on the verge of tears.

Immediately, Theresa's face fell and she began curling into herself as she remembered the pain she felt only days before when she thought she'd lost him forever. When she first read the letter he'd left for her with Chris, she felt as if a powerful vacuum commissioned by the cosmos was sucking the life out of her and wouldn't let her die. She suffered.

"Ethan… don't… you don't have to… You shouldn't blame yourself," she said softly, looking down at her bleeding cuticle again. Instinctively, she wrapped her hand around her torso to cradle the life that was no longer attached to hers.

Ethan's eyes watched in horror as she began folding into herself as if cowering from a monster—from him.

"Fox was right," he gasped incredulously.

Theresa's head snapped up, unsure of what he meant.

"It was my fault," he said, his voice nothing but cracks and lumps and strained vocals.

Theresa moved her hand to his face quickly. "No, Ethan. You're not to blame!"

The emptiness in her belly was beginning to pulse and pound like a building migraine. And just like any migraine, the pain always built to produce tears and the sawing against bone that made one want to put a pistol to the temple just to turn off the screeching torrents of pain.

"Theresa! The letter! The letter I gave you… I did this." He gestured at her empty abdomen and could suddenly feel the haunting and taunting presence of an undead child around him.

Theresa slapped her hands around Ethan's face, effectively trapping him and cupping his cheeks. She made him look at her.

"Stop," she said in a hard breath. "Stop. Please."

The desperate look in her eyes made him understand that she no longer wanted to relish on the fact that what was growing inside of her was now lost forever. Blame or not, it didn't matter. The baby was gone and no amount of blame on any one person's actions was going to change it.

That's when Ethan realized just how stupid he had been to maul her upon opening the door. If she had let him, he would have carried her to his bedroom and proceeded to undress her and make her body his the way it was supposed to be. He would have made love to her on his bed and his sheets. The sheets that were stained with blood and microscopic cells of a baby that would have grown to have his mother's beautiful eyes.

"Ethan…?" she whispered softly, letting her hands slip from his face slowly. "I need your help."

Immediately, with the image of Fox's fist flying into his face, Ethan tensed and turned to Theresa with an extremely grave expression.

"What's wrong?" In his worry, he stretched out his hand to rest on her back and offer her some form of comfort.

His touch sent waves of electricity through her system and she did her best to ignore it. A shiver ran up to her shoulder and rocked her body in a tiny shudder. Ethan couldn't pretend that he didn't see the effect he still had on her.

Theresa had to fight with herself to begin speaking because she knew it would break the torrent that was cascading through her system at his touch. She knew what she wanted to say, she knew what she had gone to say, but it seemed as if her vocal cords were suddenly paralyzed.

Several minutes passed and the worry lines in Ethan's forehead were beginning to grow deeper as his worry worsened. She fought with herself to begin speaking. The words were formed, but her vocal cords were suddenly paralyzed.

"What is it?" he asked, getting more and more concerned with each second that ticked by.

Finally, she forced herself to get the words out: "It's Fox."

The look in her eyes made him forget that it was a tough subject for them both to approach. Any and all fear for her and her wellbeing flew away quickly and it was only replaced with further worry for whatever trouble she and Fox were in. Despite everything, Fox was still his brother and they shared some kind of bond, even if they were in love with the same woman.

Ethan's hand continued to rub patterns on her lower back in an attempt to soothe her, to lessen whatever pain and worry that she was feeling.

"What happened?"

Theresa swallowed loudly and focused on the movement on Ethan's hands on her back. For a brief instant, memories of his hands working her body played in her brain. She remembered in fine detail what it felt like to have his fingers on her skin, working her skin, touching her and heating her flesh. She remembered what it was like to have his arms wrapped around her in the afterglow, or how his forearms rested on the sides of her shoulders when he moved above her.

"He's in jail," Theresa said quickly, breaking her own reverie on purpose.

The finality of her sentence, the force behind it, struck Ethan. He was confused and alarmed and shocked and thought for a second that he was going insane to hear what he had heard. Surely he was mistaken.

"After Fox found out I was pregnant…," she began, not wanting to delve too far into the emotions of that day. "When I got back to the mansion…"

She had to stop again and skip over the details of being on the cliffs that day. The image of dust spinning behind tires still made her heart ache and quiver. Aside from wishing to excuse herself from anymore emotional pain, Theresa also wanted to avoid any blame being put on Fox. She had already come to understand that what had happened between Fox and Whitney was not done with malicious intention, and she didn't want Ethan to get the wrong impression.

"That day…," Theresa began again, still avoiding the cliffs. "I had Harold drive me home. When I went upstairs, I saw Fox and Whitney cuddled… in our bed."

Ethan's eyes grew marginally, a piece of him shocked. Still, he had known for Whitney's feelings for Fox for quite some time. It was obvious and always written across her face. Besides that, he'd known the feeling of being in love with an unattainable person for far too long and could relate to her pained facial expressions.

Theresa continued to regale Ethan with how she'd gone to find Fox and Whitney together in bed, how she had assumed that Fox was willing to move on and forget his marriage, and how he'd later admitted that he and Whitney were not just cuddling, but that they'd also slept together.

"I didn't know what to do," she explained. "I ran away from the mansion with nothing. No friend, no lover, no husband… nothing."

Ethan nodded as he processed what Theresa was telling him. When he remembered leaving her on the cliffs, shame came to his eyes. Even as he was driving away that day, he couldn't believe that he'd just left her like that. But a part of him knew that it was for the best. If he'd gone back for her, he wouldn't have had the strength to walk away and he couldn't bear for her to leave him again.

But that was when Ethan realized that after she left the mansion, she had returned to her office where Chris undoubtedly gave her the letter that Fox had thrown at him earlier that day. He winced to think that he'd brought even more pain after seeing Fox and Whitney.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to meet his gaze.

Theresa looked up from her hands, unsure of what he had to be sorry or in a tale that involved Fox and Whitney.

"For what?"

Ethan's fingers twisted around each other in anger and shame. "For the letter. I shouldn't have…"

Theresa's hands went to Ethan's face, holding it and making him look at her. "Ethan," she said slowly, "it's not your fault. You didn't make Fox drink too much, you're not the one that confused Whitney for me, and you didn't have sex with my best friend. The letter had nothing to do with any of that."

Ethan shook his head in defiance. "I shouldn't have left you."

Theresa closed her eyes as the pain began washing over. In all the years that she'd known Ethan, she'd never been as hurt as she had been when he left her on the cliffs. For him to voluntarily leave her like that, in her condition, without giving her the choice of what to do, she could only fall to the dust and cry.

Ethan saw the pain flash across her eyes and he winced at the memory, hating himself for what he'd done to her on an already emotionally-trying day. But he couldn't help but focus on what had happened with Fox and Whitney.

He couldn't believe it. After years of being in love with Fox, Whitney had finally gotten what she wanted. Yet, why was Fox in jail?

"I still don't understand," Ethan said, gladly breaking the painful memories that Theresa was reliving. "If Fox and Whitney…," he trailed off, not wanting to hurt her if it indeed bothered her. "Why is he in jail? Did he hurt her or something?"

Theresa stared back down at her hands and shook her head. "No, he didn't hurt her," she whispered. "Not like that."

"I don't under—"

"He was rough," Theresa choked out, "but he didn't hurt her."

When Fox had admitted to sleeping with Whitney, he'd also confessed to the way in which it happened. He'd admitted to thinking it was Theresa he was having sex with, but that he'd also wanted to take out his anger. And he did.

"So why…?" Ethan pressed again.

"Whitney is accusing him of sexual assault," she said boldly. "Of rape."

Then Ethan's eyes grew to be even bigger. Though he and his brother never really got along, they'd had the same mother and Ivy raised both of them to respect women. Julian's paternal skills included a bottle of scotch and an expensive hooker on each other their sixteenth birthdays, but luckily, Ivy's upbringing had already been engrained far enough to discourage such Crane behavior.

"No," Ethan gasped. "Fox wouldn't. He would never."

"I know," Theresa asserted strongly. "Trust me, I don't believe it for a second. Whitney's just twisting what happened."

That made Ethan even more confused. Yes, he knew that Whitney was in love with Fox. But why accuse him of sexual assault and possibly ruin his life? How did that fit into being in love with him?

"I still don't understand. Why would Whitney accuse him? It doesn't make sense." He wanted to add the part of Whitney's feelings for Fox negating her doing anything harmful to him, but he wasn't completely positive that Theresa knew just how her husband was the object of Whitney's pining.

"Whitney's in love with Fox," she breathed out quickly.

Ethan's eyes snapped to hers, searching for any pain or discomfort or anger. There was none. Theresa looked calm and collected as she said the words that might have had any other wife lusting for blood.

"You know?" Ethan asked.

Theresa nodded. "She never said anything. To me, that is. I'm not sure if she ever told Fox. But yeah, I've known for a long time."

Ethan stared at her, still confused. If she knew about Whitney's feelings for Fox and that coupled with her own feelings for another man… It was almost laughable. Their marriage was the strangest and most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard of.

"Theresa," he began, clearing his throat and preparing to possibly endure her anger. "If Whitney's in love with Fox… and you're… in love… with me… then why…?"

Theresa closed her eyes and exhaled sharply through her nostrils, steeling herself. She didn't want to admit to herself that she had asked herself that question several times whiles driving over. All she had to do was look down at her left hand to get her answer.

"Because I made vows, Ethan," she answered.

Ethan snorted softly. Yes, it was true, she'd made vows. She had vowed to be loyal and faithful to Fox. And she had broken that one. Even before they began their affair, her heart had never been faithful.

"Besides," she continued, "Whitney's in love with Fox. Not the other way around."

Ethan turned back to her, his eyes searching hers for a long time. "Are you sure about that?" he asked quietly.

Theresa stared back at him for several minutes, scanning her own memories for any indication that it was true.

"Yes." Though it sounded solid, there was definitely doubt in her voice. Still, she had no reason to think otherwise.

"And you love me," Ethan stated.

Theresa looked away and stared out the large window. The night sky was beautiful, the moon almost full and brilliantly bright. Finally, she turned back to Ethan when she realized that she had to say something.

"I do," she sighed. "But I love Fox, too."

Ethan's hands twisted and turned, toying like a madman that was plotting his next action. "Are you sure about that?" he echoed his earlier question about Fox's feelings for Whitney.

And once again, she answered in the same solid and doubtful "Yes."

It wasn't until recently that she realized just how much Fox meant to her. She loved Ethan, yes. Beyond anything else she'd ever known, she loved Ethan. But in there somewhere, she loved Fox as well. When he had taken the ring off her finger at the hospital, something inside of her wanted to break. He was her friend, her support, her rock and her shoulder. He'd always been there for her and treated her with such kindness and love. She couldn't help but love him.

The look in Ethan's eyes hurt her inside her chest. It was as if she had wounded him deeply with her declaration of love for his brother. It wasn't something pleasant for him to hear, but he had to hear it. Especially now.

But Theresa didn't want to get into that. They had time for that later. First, she wanted to make sure that she could count on him to help Fox clear his name and still manage to keep everything under wraps for his reputation and the name of the company.

"Uh…," she said, clearing her throat. "Anyway, he's in custody right now. He won't be move to prison until the actual arraignment… but there's… hard… evidence apparently." She looked away again and reached into her clutch purse for a stained and used tissue. Dabbing at her eyes, she turned back to Ethan. "I need your help, Ethan. Please! You have to help me get Fox cleared."

He now understood that she had come to him, not to take her rightful place in his arms and in his bed, but because she needed his help. She needed his help to free Fox from jail. To free her husband. Her husband. Her renewed husband.

Ethan was still processing everything that Theresa had told him. He had to force himself to think about anything but Theresa admitting her love for Fox. He couldn't dwell on that. He couldn't think about her pulling away from him at the door, and he definitely couldn't think about having her pressed against him when he had first opened the door.

A piece of him, the darker piece, the part ruled by evil that was in every human being, was roaring inside of him with laughter. If Fox was in jail, with hard evidence as Theresa had said, Theresa was basically a widow. She was free.

Ethan shook his head to rid himself of tempting thoughts.

"There's still something I don't understand," he said, still not agreeing to help her. "Why would Whitney deliberately accuse him? If she's in love with him, how does that help her?"

Theresa knew the question was coming, and she hated the answer. She hated it because that would mean she would have to tell him. And she it hated it because of what it would undoubtedly do to him.

Theresa fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. "When she saw us… at the hospital… Fox was…" And she stopped, unsure of how to finish.

She wasn't sure how to tell him the truth. But she had to. Just as she'd told Fox the truth about the baby's paternity, she had to tell Ethan. He at least deserved that much.

Ethan felt as if something bad was coming, he could feel it in waves as the tension tightened in her body. He wasn't sure if it would shatter him or her, but he knew that he had to prepare himself as well as her. Wanting to offer her some kind of comfort and support before she let it out, whatever it was, he gently placed his palm against the small of her back. He saw her relax minutely at the contact and warmth that he spread through her skin.

Strengthened slightly by his touch, Theresa sucked in a breath and spoke. "He reproposed to me. We're going to renew our vows," she spilled out quickly, not stopping for breath.

The words echoed in his head over and over it sent sharp machetes at his heart. Ethan's hand fell from her back as he twisted his body more in her direction. He stared at her without saying anything, his expression a cross between disbelief and anguished.

"What?" he gasped.

Without saying anything else, Ethan stood and began to pace back and forth next to the coffee table. Theresa's words were echoing in his head on repeat. She'd just finished saying that she and Fox were getting recommitted… which mean that they were basically getting remarried. She was marrying Fox—again.

He had to calm himself before his sudden anger boiled over to be too great. He would never understand why Theresa did the things she did.

"So… so—you and I—it's… it's… really over?"

Theresa licked her lips over and over and tried to ignore the pain that his voice was sending into her chest.

"It has to be."

Ethan lifted his hands to his ribs as if he'd just run several miles and needed the room to expand his lungs for oxygen. The sides of his suit jacket hung over his arms like an angry cape billowing behind him. He turned his head to the side because he couldn't look at her. His mouth opened in twisted confusion, and then he closed it again because no words came to mind to express what he was feeling.

For several minutes, Ethan could only stare out the window as if he were waiting for something to come crashing through the ceiling. But nothing came. And the reality was what she was telling him. His eyes filled with glistening tears but he didn't allow them to fall—yet.

By his demeanor, Theresa soon realized that it was a mistake to turn to him for help. She could have gone to any of her lawyers that were under the Crane payroll. She could have hired the very best attorney in the country that would have ensured Fox's freedom and innocence. But Ethan was someone that she could trust to help her in anyway, even if it meant freeing her husband.

Her best friend was the one pressing the charges, her husband was sitting behind iron bars, and her family had long since left Harmony for a drama-free lifestyle in California. After all, her mother had dealt with enough drama living in Harmony her entire life. Chris, as helpful as he'd been to her, could not offer any kind of legal skills or political power to help Fox. Ethan was also the only other person that she could turn to, he was her only option.

And she kept telling herself that his law degree and personal understanding were the only reasons that she found herself in his arms as soon as she knocked on his door.

"Ethan, I really need your help with this."

Ethan shook his head. "Theresa," he said loudly. "I… this is—this is a conflict of—"

Theresa stood and took his hands in hers. "Ethan, please. Please," she pleaded. "Please."

"Theresa, I can't. With this," he said, gesturing between the two of them. "With our history… you can't ask me to do this."

She wasn't missing what he was really saying. It wasn't that he couldn't help her due to their history, or because Fox was his brother, or even that he was in love with her. No, it was the fact that he couldn't be around her and not act on what he wanted. He couldn't help her get her husband back because he wanted to take that place.

Theresa pulled Ethan back down to sit on the couch next to her. He could barely look at her and his heart was pounding, but he couldn't decide if it was in anger or fear or both.

"Ethan…," she said softly. "We were friends once. We can be again."

Ethan looked up to her in disbelief. "Friends?" he choked out. "Friends?"

Theresa leaned away from him slightly when she saw how angry he was getting.

"We're not friends, Theresa. We've never been friends. We can never be friends."

Theresa looked back down, afraid to meet his eyes when he was so obviously pained and angry.

"I've loved you since the moment I saw you, Theresa," he continued. "I just didn't know it. We were never friends because we've always loved each other." To solidify his point, he reached out and cupped her face in his palm, turning her face up to him. "Always."

Theresa nodded, finally agreeing with him. She let out a shaky breath and her own emotion began to get the better of her.

"I don't know who else to turn to," she whispered quickly, her chin quivering. "I'm begging you." And then she was crying.

Ethan watched as her stiff body began quacking in tears and sobs. His soul was screaming for him to do something. Without knowing what to do or say, he pulled her close to him and rocked her like a child. Minutes passed and eventually her tears calmed and ceased.

"Theresa, you know I'd do anything for you," he whispered, still rocking her. "But I don't know… Theresa, you know I'm not a criminal attorney."

She nodded against his chest. "I know."

"I specialize in corporate law… This is…"

Theresa turned up to him quickly, desperation clear in her eyes. "Please, Ethan. I need you."

The pleading in her eyes could not be lost on Ethan. Because he still loved her, and always would, he knew he could never deny her anything. Ethan tossed the idea around in his mind. She wanted him in her life, even in such a small way, and he'd give it to her.

Ethan took her hand from her lap and again traced her lifeline. The lines seemed to get deeper and deeper in her skin every time he traced them.

"I'll do whatever I can to help."

Theresa stared at him for a beat too long, still in shock that he was agreeing to help her. When she realized that he was serious about helping her, she fell against him, her arm rising to wrap around his neck.

She embraced him so quickly, he was surprised how hard her body hit him. He could hear her sobs muffled in his shoulder and disregarded the fact that his suit was becoming stained with her tears. His heart broke at the sound, as it always would.

Theresa turned her head and pressed her lips to his neck. "Thank you," she whispered against his skin. "Thank you." She turned her head back to its original position and muffled more sobs into his shoulder.

Ethan's hands pressed at her back, reassuring her of his presence, offering comfort and seeking a physical identifier of the kiss on his neck. He wanted nothing more in that instant than to turn towards her and kiss away all her pain. But he knew he couldn't.

In her admission of the renewal of her marriage to Fox, she had told him that 'they' would never be again. He could never lay claim to her again. And he felt guilty for having taken her in his arms the way he did as soon as he opened the door. But he couldn't help himself. And now that he would be working with her to get Fox out of his legal mess, he would have to ensure to control himself.

Still, even now, feeling her body pressed against him, the way her curves fit seamlessly into his body shape, he knew it was going to be difficult to suppress his natural instinct of giving her his heart.

* * *

Alright, folks. We're nearly there. Five years in the making and this story is finally getting to the end! Currently, there's either one or two more chapters (depending on how much I can fit into one) and an epilogue.

BTW, all the cars mentioned above are my dream cars when I become a billionaire-in the exact same colors. Google them and fall in love.

Also, MAC's Russian Red lipstick is real and can be found online and in fine department stores. It was just a little homage to my love of makeup and MAC :)

Until next time,

Sophia


	14. Double Sided

At 39,000 words, this is the longest. I hope you enjoy.

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* * *

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**_Chapter 13:_ Double-Sided**

"I'm going with you," she asserted, stepping around him and grabbing the handle on the door.

"Theresa," Ethan said, his breath already sounding too tense. "That's not a good idea."

Theresa let loose her grip around the handle on the door and took a step back. "Why not?" she asked dejectedly like a child having been told to sit down in timeout.

Ethan looked around, clearly making himself look suspicious among all the police officers entering the building. Finally deciding that no one would arrest him for not allowing Theresa Crane to do as she pleased, he pulled her aside. After placing his briefcase at his feet, he gently rested his hands on her shoulders.

"Theresa, Fox needs to see me as his lawyer. He needs to know that I'm here to help him," he began.

"And so am I," Theresa interjected.

Ethan breathed a long sigh of slight frustration. "Theresa, I don't think that if Fox sees us enter together that he's going to be very receptive… to…"

Then Theresa understood. Yes, she had asked Ethan to represent her husband, but with their history, he might suspect some other motive that wouldn't garner well for the trial. Client and attorney didn't need any more tension between them.

Theresa finally nodded in agreement and Ethan retrieved his briefcase from next to his feet. He straightened like a peacock ready to strut in front of a female and made to walk into the police station.

"Ethan," Theresa called him back, taking his hand in hers.

He turned back to her, his fingers resisting the urge to caress against her skin. "Yeah?"

Theresa sucked at her top lip and made her mouth into what looked like a pout often made by a devastated child.

"Thank you," she said finally. "Thank you for doing this for us."

Ethan's fingers gently squeezed hers in return. "I'm doing it for you," he admitted. And with that, he released her hand and stepped into the police station, regaining his peacock-like posture.

Theresa watched as he slid through the revolving doors, his words still lingering in the air around her. He didn't have to say it, but she'd always known that he wasn't taking Fox's case out of the kindness of his heart, or even because he and Fox shared the same mother and grew up in the same mansion before they were sent off to boarding school overseas.

Guilty, knowing that if the situation had be reversed, she never would have agreed to work so closely to Ethan only to have him embraced in the arms of another, she admired his strength and walked back over to his Lexus to wait for his return.

* * *

It felt like a prison. Perhaps that was the intention. At least that's what Ethan hoped. If not, whoever decorated had made some serious lapses in judgment. The entire room looked like a cellblock; the walls were made of old gray stones, the ceiling and floors looked like cement, and the large—what he knew to be a two-way—mirror on his side cast his reflection. He was immediately thankful that he had never been in prison himself.

Ethan sat in the cold metal chair and wondered if it was meant to look like a torture device; it certainly felt like one. Besides, would it absolutely kill the Harmony Police Department budget to put some cushions on those things?

Before he could follow his very important thought process on the inexpensive and beneficial seat cushions, Ethan's reverie was broken by the pounding on the door and the rattling of keys in the lock. He smoothed out his tie with both hands and shimmied his back from side to side as a bird would fluff up their feathers preparing for battle.

The door opened and Fox was escorted in by a man in a dark blue HPD uniform. Fox's outfit was a much lighter shade of blue. It was what a high powered magazine editor might consider cerulean rather than lapis or a true blue. It was like a mixture of sea green and sky blue. No matter the color, Fox looked less than pleased to be wearing the jumpsuit and chains around his wrists.

Fox smirked at Ethan as the officer unlocked the chains and left the room before giving Ethan a knowing look. When they were finally alone, Fox took the seat opposite Ethan at the shiny metal table and rubbed his wrists as best he could through the cast. The smirk didn't leave his face and only grew wider.

"So, big bro. Come see the little bro down for the kicking, huh?" He chuckled to himself.

Ethan cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side. "That's not why I'm here, Fox."

Fox laughed, his face falling closer and closer to the shiny top of the table. He slapped his good hand on the surface as if he were slapping his knee.

"Right, right," he said, still chuckling. "Then, tell me. To what do I owe the honor?" He paused, but only minutely. "Let me guess. You didn't like the artwork I left on your face yesterday, and when you heard I was here, you wanted a little payback, right? Yeah, let's all laugh at Fox. A Crane's in jail. Hilarious!"

At the mention of the bruises on his face, Ethan winced when he scrunched his nose.

"Fox, I didn't—"

But Fox didn't let him continue. "No, forget it! You already had your last laugh, Ethan." He slammed his fist on the table and lifted from the metal chair, knocking it to a clatter on the cement floor. "You were sneaking around with my wife! I think you deserved what you got! So don't come here looking for some kind of revenge!" He went to the door and pounded on the small window lined with wire to reinforce it. "I'm done! I'm out of here." He pounded harder and harder against the small window barely bigger than his fist.

Ethan had to speak loud enough so he could be heard over the pounding. "Theresa's the one who sent me."

Fox's fist froze in the air just before hitting the door again. He turned, his damaged leg trailing behind him slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Ethan pulled his briefcase up from beside his leg and propped it on the shiny table. He opened the clips and dug around for a few papers, probably just to distract himself from the confused look on Fox's face.

"She came to me last night," Ethan said, still looking inside his briefcase. "She asked me to the take the case. Begged me, actually."

Fox's eyes squinted almost closed, his pupils widened in anger. "Why would she do that?"

Ethan leaned back so his weight rested on the two back legs of the metal chair. Seeing as how it was probably made of titanium, he felt no qualms about the possibility of falling. "I don't know, Fox. You tell me." The playful and knowing look he had on his face taunted Fox.

Again Fox appraised him with hard eyes. "Just what are you getting at?"

Ethan let his chair fall back to its proper position with a loud clang against the cement. This time, he smirked. "Ever think that she asked me to do this because subconsciously, she wants to be closer to me?"

Fox's anger ignited quickly. In a few hobbled steps, he walked as fast as he could over to the table and slammed both hands on the top, ignoring the burning pain in his casted wrist.

"Theresa is _my_ wife, Ethan! Or didn't you get the memo? We're getting recommitted, Ethan! That's right, renewing our vows!" He let that hang in the air as he weighed Ethan's reaction. Surprisingly, the anger and jealousy he expected to see were absent.

Ethan nodded and looked down to smooth over his silk tie again. "I know. She told me." He cleared his throat to remove any emotion that might have trailed behind.

"She told you?" Fox repeated.

Ethan let seconds pass over in Fox's confusion. He was enjoying whatever little game they were playing. It was a back and forth, push and pull, tug of war over something invisible. It was ludicrous and incredibly fun at the same time.

"So…? Maybe she does just want to be closer to me."

Fox stared at him and did his best to reassure himself. He repeated Theresa's words in his head.

_It's over. Ethan and I, it's over between us. For good._

But they didn't seem to help his resolve any. Yes, Theresa had told him that her relationship with Ethan was forever over. Still, at Ethan's suggestion, Fox couldn't help but wonder if he was right. It sent him on a dizzying tirade of anger and confusion that exploded in fury.

"Get out!" Fox said, hobbling back far enough from the table to point at the door. "Leave!"

Ethan shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I can't do that."

"Ethan," he said, beginning to shake. "I swear, get out!"

Ethan shook his head again. "I'm your attorney, Fox. You might need me to stick around."

Fox's good hand curled into a snarled fist at his side. "Then, you're fired! Now get out!" He was breathing hard as if he'd just run a marathon.

Again, Ethan simply shook his head calmly. "I promised her," he said. "Unless she fires me, I'm staying."

Fox hobbled back over to the door and pounded on the small glass square again. "No. I want a new attorney. I'll take a public defender over you. You're not even a criminal attorney, Ethan!"

Though Ethan thought to himself that he had told Theresa the exact same thing, he didn't voice his doubts. Instead, he continued smoothing his tie down over his chest, sighing calmly.

"No, I'm not," he said. "But guess what, all lawyers still go to law school. And I can study up on what I need to know for your case."

Fox chuckled.

"Study up? Great. Fantastic. Why don't you just slap the cuffs on me yourself?" He walked to the other side of the room, still chuckling under his breath. "Hey, even better, you can get Theresa a quick divorce while you're at it and marry her before I'm even up for parole!"

Ethan couldn't lie to himself and claim that the idea of taking Theresa for himself while Fox was locked up didn't occur to him. But he knew that was no longer his decision to make. Theresa wasn't for the taking, she was for the giving. And she had already chosen to whom to give herself.

"No, I'll give you one better!" Fox continued. "What if I get shanked my first night and then all your problems are solved, huh?"

"Fox, shut up," Ethan commanded in his finest and most powerful courtroom voice. "That's not why I'm here. I'm here because Theresa asked me to defend you, one. Two, you're still my brother…"

Fox turned a quizzical eye over to him. "Brother?"

"Well… Sort of," Ethan clarified.

"Are we gonna sit around a campfire and sing Cumbaya now? Hold hands and cry?"

"And three," Ethan ignored him and continued his list, "I know you didn't do what Whitney says you did."

Then Fox stopped his pacing and turned to Ethan with a much more serious expression.

"Whitney? What are you talking about?"

That was when Ethan realized that though Theresa had been able to piece together what had happened, Fox was still in the dark and still very unaware of what was going on around him. He probably didn't even understand the seriousness of the situation.

For a split second, Ethan passed his brother a look that seemed to be compassion. But it was only a second.

"Sit down, Fox."

Wordlessly, the once talkative and sarcastic Fox sat down in the shiny metal chair opposite his attorney. Ethan leaned across the table, just as he had with his previous clients. Though they were usually imprisoned over embezzlement and other financial schemes, he was used to the table lean and just how much power it entitled him.

"You've been charged with sexual assault, Fox," he clarified a little. "Rape."

Fox stared, and nodded hesitantly. Though he knew he'd done no such thing, he couldn't help the sick feeling that was beginning to wash over him at the mention of Whitney's name. The last time he'd seen her, she was fleeing from him as Theresa had, refusing to stay with him. Because of him. Because of what he'd done to her.

Ethan let his last word hang in the air, letting Fox mull over it silently. He watched his half-brother's eyes flit back and forth, down to the table, up across the room, and then to his hands.

Ethan folded his hands, leaning back into his chair, because it was all about the table lean. "Whitney's the one accusing you."

Fox's eyes closed on instinct and flashes of what he'd done to her came flooding into his mind. He saw her sitting across from him in the library. He saw the fire in her eyes. He saw the color of the scotch he was drinking. Or was it brandy? Or whiskey? Whatever it was, he'd had enough. And then Whitney tried to get him to stop. And he saw the worry in her eyes. And he yelled and he saw the shock in her eyes, the understanding. And then he kissed her. And he kissed Theresa. And then he forced himself on his wife, making her feel everything that she'd done to him, how she'd humiliated him. But it had been Whitney instead.

His memories were surrounded in blackness. Everything he saw, the further he tried to remember, the more black and dark around the edges everything was. When he woke up, he was laying uncomfortably on his arm, with one thrown over the back of the couch. Whitney was gone, but he'd forgotten what had happened. He had looked down and seen that his pants were pushed down far enough to expose him.

When Fox opened his eyes, he was back in the in Harmony PD's finest interrogation room, complete with flickering light overhead. And Ethan was still looking at him with his all-business attorney face. He suddenly understood that the look must have been something learned by all Ivy League-trained lawyers as his own attorneys gave him the same look.

"Fox?" Ethan asked, the serious look still on his face.

Fox nodded, still processing his own wrongdoings. He would never be able to take back what he'd done to Whitney, and wouldn't even try. He'd scarred her beyond repair. He deserved whatever was coming his way.

"Guilty," Fox said suddenly. "I want to plead guilty," he said, pulling his hands over his face.

Ethan stared at him in a weakened lawyer stare. The stare turned into confusion. And confusion turned into worry.

"Fox," he began, his voice taking on the tone that Julian sometimes used when reprimanding his children. "You did not rape Whitney."

Still hazy and surrounded in black edges, Fox remembered seeing Whitney flat on her back under him on the couch in his library. Her face kept morphing into Theresa's, like the flickering a demonic soul would have in a horror film.

Fox nodded in protest. "Yes. Yes, I did."

Ethan's lawyer look was completely gone. He stared at his brother, half though he might have been, and could only think of how Ivy would pull them upstairs when Julian came home with some stupid Crane intern. Ethan remembered hearing a woman's drunk laughter coming from the parlor and his mother would pull them into a room and sit them down on a bed. She would tell them that love was special and that women were to be respected. _Never_, she had said_, do anything to a woman without permission. Never_.

Ethan's tongue passed up and over his top lip, licking quickly. After processing the look on Fox's face, after trying to wrap his head around the fact that his own brother could have done something so heinous, Ethan swallowed thickly and retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from his briefcase.

"Tell me what happened," Ethan requested, still watching Fox's face.

Slowly, with a soft and guilty-sounding voice, Fox recounted what had happened the day that he'd returned from the hospital after seeing Theresa and learning of her pregnancy. He didn't stop when Ethan winced at the memory. Fox continued through the story until he saw Whitney sitting in front of the window in the living room by herself, dried tears running tracks of mascara down her face.

Fox told of how scared he was for Whitney's psychological state, how she flinched and stared, whispering and lost. He explained the doctor visit and how he thought that Whitney was going catatonic over what had happened. And then she finally left him.

Ethan scribbled down in somewhat-elegant handwriting everything that Fox was telling him. He filled four legal-sized pages with the recount of what had happened that day in the library. And when Fox was done, there were tears in his eyes.

"I don't know how…," Fox said, pausing to search for the words. "I didn't mean… I never would have…"

"Fox," Ethan began, still scribbling, his lawyer face back. "You didn't. You were drunk, angry. A jury will understand that. You weren't thinking clearly. Besides," he added, looking up cautiously before continuing to scribble, "it's not like Whitney didn't want it."

Fox's head snapped up. "What are you talking about? You sound like Father."

"Julian," Ethan clarified, not looking up. He scribbled some more and made a mental note that he would have to prove in court that she had feelings for her so-called attacker.

"Tell me you don't know," Ethan stated stiffly. "Please tell me you're that blind."

Fox briefly wondered if Ethan was referring to Theresa or to Whitney. And then he realized that he might as well have been talking about both.

"Whitney's in love with you," Ethan admitted, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands.

_The lean is definitely taught in Ivy League law schools_, Fox thought.

"Tell me you don't know that," Ethan pressed. "Everyone else does."

Fox could only remember how horrible he felt the morning he woke to find Whitney so completely broken. She had lain in his bed for two days without moving. Her entire body was rigid, her eyes glassy and red.

But then it occurred to him. She had even said the words.

_I… I—I love you, Fox._

And for some reason, at that moment, he felt something that he never had before. It wasn't that he was suddenly in love with Whitney, because it didn't happen that way. It was just that he could not only hear, but he could also feel, the sincerity in her words. He knew she'd meant it. And for the first time, he knew what it was to be told those words completely and honestly.

It hurt immensely that the one to say the words wasn't his own wife. Theresa had never said the words quite like Whitney had. And she probably never would.

Before the anger could flash to the surface and overtake him completely, Fox simply focused on his actions and what he'd done to Whitney. He was no better than his grandfather or his father. They were womanizers that believed women were put on the earth for their own personal enjoyment. Yes, he'd played around in his younger days, but he'd never treated a woman so abominably.

"It doesn't matter," Fox choked out. "It doesn't change what I did."

Ethan shook his head and cleared his throat, regaining his lean. "Fox, it's not rape if she was a willing participant. No matter… how… rough… you were."

Fox's eyes snapped up to Ethan's.

"How do you know about that?" While he had confessed to Ethan that he had punished Whitney with his body for Theresa's sins, he hadn't explained just how he'd done it, or how rough he'd been.

Ethan cleared his throat and looked over his notes. "Theresa… she told me."

Fox looked away, ashamed. He wasn't sure what bothered him more. The fact that his wife and her ex-lover discussed him, or the fact that his wife and his half-brother knew of how atrocious he could really be. For the first time in a long time, Fox envied the fact that Ethan had no Crane blood in his veins.

Ethan took his leaning position and pretended he was talking to any other client being charged with fraud rather than his brother being charged with rape.

"Look," Ethan said, sighing. "It's not going to be easy. Because you were rough with her, there's… there's evidence of uh… forced," Ethan paused on the word, "entry. And obviously, traces of your semen implicates you."

Fox nodded.

"So," Ethan continued, flicking his wrist and preparing to take more notes. "Our best defense is to prove that she is in fact in love with you, that you did not force her into it, and that she's only doing this to perhaps gain monetary compensation."

Fox shook his head vehemently. "No. She wouldn't do that."

"Then why else?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm pleading guilty."

Ethan dropped his pen hard with a thump against his yellow legal pad.

"Fox, you plead guilty, with the evidence they have on you, you'd be going to prison for at least ten years." He let the weight of the number fall upon Fox. "Ten years, Fox."

Fox covered his face with his hands. "It's what I deserve."

Ethan stared at him incredulously.

"You didn't rape Whitney," Ethan said in hard-lined teeth.

Fox simply moaned into his palms.

"If you plead guilty, Fox," Ethan continued. "That's ten years, if you're lucky." He saw Fox nod without caring. "Don't you dare do that to Theresa!" he whispered and shouted at the same time.

Fox looked up, shocked. The fire in Ethan's eyes let him know that he wasn't kidding.

"Do you understand me?" Ethan said through a clenched jaw. "I don't give a damn if you want to jump off a bridge or swallow a container of nails. If you hurt her," he paused, leaning ever so much closer to Fox across the table, "I will," leaning further, "I promise," leaning so close he was breathing up Fox's nose, "bring you back to life to kill you myself."

Fox said nothing and simply stared, fear and confusion taking place in his eyes.

"Theresa begged me to help you, Fox. I don't care if I have to have you declared insane, I'm going to do it."

With that, Ethan threw his pad and his pen into his briefcase, slamming it shut and he finally stood from the extremely uncomfortable chair. Fox watched as Ethan walked around the table and began to reach for the door, ready to call a guard.

"Why do you care?" Fox asked in a quiet voice. "Why do you care if I get sent away? Then Theresa's all yours."

Ethan exhaled in a very hard and strained breath, white blowing over the small bullet-proof window in the door.

"You just don't get it, do you?" He turned and looked at Fox directly. "I don't _want _to steal her away from you, Fox. I want her to be mine, but because that's what she wants. And I would never _ever_ hurt her." He swallowed thickly, momentarily pushing mounting shame down into his chest. "Again. So if she wants you, and if she wants you free, that's what I'll give her."

Ethan turned back to the door and pounded on the small window.

"You're pleading not guilty," he instructed, still facing away from his client.

The door opened and Ethan walked out of the room without another word. Fox could only stare at his reflection in the two-way mirror, contemplating Ethan's words. Finally, after years and years, he respected his brother.

* * *

"Well if it isn't little Ethan Crane."

Ethan looked up, surprised because he hadn't been called that in ages. Still, the voice sounded vaguely familiar. The man standing on the other side of the room, just leaning out of an officer's cubicle, waved him over.

Ethan squinted, unsure of who he was seeing. The man wore a fine dark suit and a bright yellow tie. Finally, his face became clearer and his mind was able to register as he approached.

"Dil?" Ethan asked, finally stepping up to the man and smiling. "Is that you?"

The addressed man smiled as well and extended his hand. "One in the same."

Ethan shook his hand with a professional grip and was careful not to hold on for too long.

"Dylan Thomas," Ethan sighed.

Dylan, a handsome man with dark hair and hazel eyes who was a few years older than Ethan, nodded, a nostalgic fog coming over his eyes.

"Actually, it's Assistant District Attorney Dylan Thomas," he corrected.

Ethan's eyes travelled over the expensive suit and the shiny Rolex on his old friend's wrist. He was always prone to overdressing and fashion statements. Still, he looked more like a Hollywood law puppet than a small town ADA.

"Wow," said Ethan. "ADA, that's great, Dil."

Dylan pulled on his jacket at the chest a little, shaking off imaginary dust.

"Thanks. I heard you got into corporate after you left Crim."

Ethan nodded, not willing to explain the strange turn of events that led him to his fall from Raven Hill as a Crane down to a Winthrop and normalcy after leaving Harvard.

Dylan checked his watch and waved over a deputy.

"So what are you doing here?" Dylan asked. "Posting some CEO's bond?" He grabbed a file off the desk in front of him and flipped through the pages.

Ethan smirked and shook his head. "I came to see my brother."

Looking up, Dylan smirked again. "That's right. I forgot Foxy was your brother."

"Fox," Ethan corrected.

Dylan shook his head, still looking at the file. "The apple doesn't fall far from the boozed up, adulterous tree now, huh?"

Ethan looked away, somehow remembering why he tried to keep his distance from Dylan back in college.

"I'm the apple's attorney," Ethan admitted, the tone in his voice beginning to sound dangerous.

Dylan snapped the file shut and looked up quicker than even Ethan could possibly have imagined.

"Please tell me you're joking," the ADA said, throwing the file back on the desk. "I mean, really, you can't be serious."

Ethan didn't laugh and only exhaled in his annoyance.

Dylan placed his hand on Ethan's shoulder in what looked like a mocking and a fatherly gesture all at once.

"Ethan, we have DNA evidence and a doctor agreeing that it was rape," he said quietly, adding a snort at the tail. "Honestly, you're asking to lose."

Ethan turned his head and glared at the hand on his shoulder. Dylan lowered his grip and took a step back, clearly having overstepped his bounds.

"He's my brother," he stated, straightening up to be as tall as possible. "And he's innocent."

Dylan looked away and scoffed. "Great. Well… I'll see you in court, then?"

And Ethan watched Dylan walk away towards a group of officers that were gossiping and no doubt partaking in other equally important civic duties to service their community. As he was about to head for the revolving door that had brought him into such loonesy, a rising voice distracted him and pulled his vision towards a hallway leading down the left.

"I want to see him," a woman's voice said loudly, carrying down the hallway. "I'll be fine. I want to see him," she said again.

Ethan heard some officer explaining to the demanding woman that there was some kind of rule that wouldn't allow it without attorneys present. Either because he was an attorney, or because he was simply curious, Ethan began walking towards the discussion. Standing in the middle of the hallway was the officer that had escorted Fox into the prison-block room and an agitated woman. Upon closer inspection, Ethan noticed a familiar skin tone and a familiar expanse of curly hair. Still curious, though explaining it to himself as his duty as an attorney, Ethan went to intervene.

"What's going on?"

Whitney turned up to him, her eyes looking more afraid than they had just seconds before.

"Young Miss wants to see your client. I told her it's not allowed unless both attorneys are present," the officer offered. Ethan looked at his badge and was notified that his name was Officer Jack Powell.

"Ethan," Whitney began, turning to him. "I need to see Fox." Her voice was desperate and hurried.

Officer Powell turned to Ethan, gave him a knowing look, and gave Whitney a hard eye before excusing himself to return to writing one of his reports.

When they were alone, Ethan pulled Whitney, gently, by the arm to a few chairs by the wall. Without a word, they took their seats, the expression on Whitney's face reminiscent of a scared rabbit cornered by a hunter.

"Whitney, what are you doing here?"

Whitney's eyes flitted back and forth behind him, scared of him suddenly. "I just want to see Fox. Make sure he's okay."

Ethan nodded and didn't even try to hide the sly smirk on his face. And with a sarcasm that was all too close to Fox's, Ethan answered, "Oh, he's fine, Whit. Don't worry."

Clearly nervous, Whitney started fidgeting with her fingers, pulling and twisting them like they were suddenly made of rubber. Ethan watched her like the analytical lawyer that he was. He was accustomed to studying defendants' mannerisms to try to get something out of them. Even if he was used to taking on cases of embezzlement, fraud, and corporate suits, he still had his fair share of ripping into witnesses on the stand. And his skills of watching closely came in handy.

"I just… uh, I want to talk to him."

Ethan breathed a sigh of relief, a small child dancing in his head in hope that maybe if Whitney got some alone time with Fox, maybe she'd drop the charges and everyone could go on living their lives.

A very small piece of him, hidden behind layers of walls and crumbling strength, hated the idea. No, he didn't want to be in charge of Fox's case. But at the same time, it gave him enough excuse to be close to Theresa for the remainder of the trial. And it would definitely go to trial based on the evidence stacked against Fox.

But above all that, he'd made a promise. He promised Theresa that he would do what he could to free Fox from the clutches of the justice system and the flaws within it. And just as he'd told Fox, because she asked, he'd do it for her.

"I'm going to have to insist that it's recorded," he said finally.

Whitney looked up at him, confused as to why he'd be insisting anything that had to do with Fox's case. When he saw the questions on her face, Ethan looked down to his feet, spread them wider on the cheap supposedly-marble-looking tile, and then back up.

"I'm Fox's counsel."

Whitney blinked repeatedly as if she were processing the words with her eyelids.

"His attorney? Why would you…?"

Ethan smirked at her, opening his legs even wider as if it made him look stronger—and according to Freud's opinion on the power of phallic symbols, it did.

"Theresa asked me to represent him."

He watched her face, watched the fear and dread and panic that flitted over her features in a matter of a second.

"But… doesn't he have a whole string of lawyers working for him?"

Ethan said nothing and only shrugged.

"Ethan," Whitney sighed, placing her hand on his knee. "I just want to see him. I'm sure he needs me."

Staring at her, Ethan was extremely confused. If Whitney was the one accusing him of sexual assault, why would she want to see him? That was when he realized that he only knew it was Whitney because Theresa had told him so. The report he'd read categorized her as "the victim"; she had asked that her name be kept confidential, as was not uncommon for rape victims.

Whitney had no idea that Ethan knew the truth.

Ethan had to work quickly to remove the shock from his face before Whitney grew to learn the truth herself. He looked down at the briefcase leaning against one of his legs and pulled it up onto his lap. After flipping open the clips on either side, he dug around behind papers and pens to find what he was looking for.

He held out a small recorder towards Whitney.

She stared at the small black device that was no bigger than her cell phone.

"What's that for?"

Ethan pressed the rewind button with his thumb and waited for skipping sounds to finish. "Tape recorder," he pointed out succinctly. "Just in case."

Whitney stared at it, still confused.

"I just want to see if he's okay, Ethan. I'm his best friend, I'm supposed to be here for him."

Ethan nodded, again realizing that she really didn't know that he knew. She was blind enough to assume the same of everyone else.

"Please," she continued begging. "Just a few minutes."

Closing his briefcase and putting it back at his feet, Ethan stared at the floor and got a brilliant idea. If Whitney didn't know that he knew, he wouldn't fill her in. And he might just get something great out of it.

"Sure," Ethan finally agreed.

Whitney's face lit up and she jumped up from her seat, shaking with her energy.

Ethan went to the front of the station to speak to an officer about having Fox brought back into the prison block room. When he asked to see his client again, he felt like asking for a bowl of fruit or something equally as colorful to be put in there as well. But he digressed, afraid the cops would take offense against their décor.

Fox was taken into the room where he was made to wait for who he thought was Ethan coming to speak to him again. After a few minutes passed, Ethan told Whitney she was free to go inside, without him. Whitney smiled and thanked him heartily. And when she opened the door and walked in, Ethan walked through the door right next to it and turned on the light in the dark room.

He sat in the chair, surprisingly a much more comfortable one. While the walls were the same ugly gray that the interrogation room was, the floor was not poured cement and was instead covered in a homey-looking blue carpet.

Ethan looked up through the window—what he knew was a mirror on the other side, and watched Whitney standing with her back against the door, Fox still unmoving in his seat. Perhaps he hadn't heard anyone enter because he hadn't moved yet. And neither had Whitney.

Quickly, Ethan looked down to the buttons and screens and other contraptions on the long table in front of him. All the way on the left of the table, he saw a small red light blinking. He used his fingertip to move the small dial all the way up and watched the light turn to green, the blinking pausing. And above his head, just like what he imagined would be the same in a recording studio, a sign came alive with a red light. It read: MICROPHONE ON.

As if the people on the other side of the glass could hear him, Ethan set his briefcase down on the table as gently as possible and took his seat to make sure no noise would come from the faux leather.

He watched as Whitney began walking towards the shiny table and Fox turned. Wordlessly, Whitney walked around the table and took the shiny seat opposite Fox, the only sound in the room was the screeching of metal on cement.

Fox's expression was priceless and Ethan couldn't help but giggle lightly under his breath.

Whitney reached across the table and took Fox's hand in hers, her fingers gingerly going over the cast around his thumb. When she began talking, her voice whispering in the stone room made it echo in the soundproof spy room Ethan had locked himself into.

She said the words he wanted to hear and Ethan looked up at the red light above his head. With a sly smile, Ethan knew he'd done well.

* * *

Feeling like a million bucks was putting it mildly. Ethan felt like a knight in shining armor, even shinier than the table and chairs in the interrogation room where he'd met Fox. He felt like he was made of diamonds—bright, brilliant, amazing, and invincible. Single-handedly, within two hours, he'd won Fox's case. And he couldn't wait to tell Theresa.

He was bouncing as he walked through the revolving doors and down the few steps in front of the Harmony Police Station. The grin on his face made passersby turn and look at him with curious expressions. Basically leaping and skipping to his car, he bounded into the driver's seat and looked over at Theresa with the most excited face.

But she was sleeping.

At that moment, Ethan was wracked with guilt of wanting to do nothing more than to shake her awake and deliver his most amazing news. He wanted to hoist her in the air and pour her a glass of champagne to celebrate his victory. But at the same time, he realized that she hadn't slept the night before when she came over to his apartment, begging him to take the case. After he accepted, she spent the few hours before daylight baking cookies and cleaning his kitchen.

She was too worried to sleep, she'd told him. If she slept, she had explained, she would have had nightmares of Fox being carted off in an orange jumpsuit and steel handcuffs.

He hadn't slept either, finding it impossible to even think of rest with Theresa so near. While he went to his bedroom and stripped down to his boxers in an attempt to sleep, every move and sound she made kept him alarmingly awake. Needless to say, the next morning, he had an array of oatmeal raisin, ladyfingers, and chocolate chip cookies with his coffee in his clean kitchen.

As quietly as he could, Ethan turned the key in the ignition and looked over at Theresa with a wince, hoping the light tinkling of his keys wouldn't rouse her. While driving, he thanked the gods of purring engines and luxury cars that his Lexus not only had a smooth enough ride to barely jostle the sleeping lady in the passenger seat, but also that the engine didn't rev or make any sudden sounds that might have woken her.

Finally at his condo, Ethan parked the car and looked over at Theresa. He didn't want to wake her up. And judging by the way she was sleeping, she was far too tired to be woken. So, without thinking twice about it, Ethan gently opened her door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and lifted her in his arms like a husband lifting his wife to carry her over the threshold.

She mumbled against his neck in the elevator ride up to his place, her breathing still calm and even. Thankfully Theresa was light enough to be supported with one arm and the wall when Ethan dug into his pocket to retrieve his keys and open the door. But just as he was about to carry her over the threshold, one foot over and one behind, her eyelashes fluttered against the sensitive skin of his neck and she opened her eyes.

"Ethan?" she asked groggily.

The threshold would have to wait to see another day and Ethan gently placed her on her feet, allowing her some space. As if his apartment was as much her home as any, Theresa walked right in, turning on the lamp next to the sofa in the living room and took a seat, leaning her head against the arm.

Ethan watched and a piece of him ached. He supposed that he had always wished to see something so mundane and simple as watching Theresa making herself at home in his home—their home together.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked her.

Theresa didn't answer and simply nodded with her eyes closed.

It was only early afternoon and somehow, the day felt as if it had already passed. That was when Ethan remembered his news. He put the kettle on the stove and took out a box of mixed tea and went back to Theresa in the living room. She was still slumped on the arm, seemingly sleeping.

"Theresa?" he asked cautiously in case she had fallen asleep again.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she searched the room until she landed on Ethan standing a few feet away from her. As he took a step closer to her, she couldn't help but allow a small smile to spread over her mouth.

"You fell asleep in the parking lot at the station," he told her as he came closer and finally sat next to her, still leaving her enough space of her own.

Theresa sat up, pulling her hands over her head and stretching as hard as she could, her face contorting into a strange expression of pain and pleasure. She breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to Ethan quickly as if something had just struck her.

"How did it go?" she asked, still blinking rapidly to pass the sleep from her eyes.

Like a child that couldn't wait to open presents on Christmas morning, Ethan began bouncing with excitement. He dug into his pocket and thumbed the instrument that was sure to be priceless.

"Theresa," he began, a huge smile on his face. "I won the case."

Theresa blinked a little more, processing his words in her still sleep-hazed brain. She stared for a few moments, allowing the words to sink in and then she jumped.

"Already? But… the trial…?"

Ethan chuckled and pulled the small black tape recorder from his pocket. He held it in front of her and she could only meet it with more blinking and confusion.

"Theresa," he began, pressing his thumb on a small red button on the side, "when the ADA hears this, there won't be a trial." When the tape finished rewinding, he pressed the green button and let the words ring clear in the silence.

"_Whitney," _Fox's voice said, a little fuzzy.

Only the sound of screeching metal on cement followed. Theresa could hear what sounded like Whitney clearing her throat.

"_How's your hand?" _Whitney's voice asked. She sounded a little shaky.

A few more moments of silence passed and Fox cleared his throat before answering with: _"Better, thanks." _

And then the silence was over as both voices on the recorder began speaking at the same time.

"_Whit—"_

"_I'm so sorry—"_

After a little more silence, Fox must have gestured to his visitor because she gave him room to speak.

"_Whitney, I… I don't know what to say." _There was a heavy pause. _"Except… I am so, profoundly sorry. You have to believe that I would never… You're my best friend. I can't believe what I did." _

"_You didn't," _Whitney's voice cut in.

Theresa looked up from the small black recorder to Ethan's face in shock. He only nodded and she turned her attention back down to the talking box.

"_I don't…"_

"_Fox," _Whitney said, _"Do you remember what I told you just before Theresa came home?" _

There was a long beat of silence. And when it was over, a noise came from Fox's throat that sounded as if it were too tight to breathe for him. And then more silence followed.

"_I remember," _Fox finally said.

There was a sound, a sliding of skin on the texture-less steel table. Ethan knew, because he'd seen it, that Whitney had reached across the table and took hold of his good hand.

"_I meant it," _Whitney whispered.

Theresa, while still listening, grew frustrated because she had no idea what was going on. Too bad Ethan wasn't able to videotape the entire thing.

"_That doesn't excuse what I did,"_ Fox's voice grew harder and louder. _"It just makes it worse."_

It took a long while for Whitney to say something and Ethan and Theresa could hear her hesitant breaths.

"_Fox," _she began, her voice audibly shaking. _"You didn't rape me." _The words were said fast, so fast that they were slurred together in haste.

Theresa leaned closer to the black tape recorder that Ethan was holding up as if the voice would suddenly come out and say, 'she really did say it.'

"_I…"_ Fox said slowly. _"But I… I don't understand. Of course I did."_

"_Fox,"_ Whitney said, her voice taking on the seriousness of a teacher. _"Rape implies force. It would mean that I didn't give consent." _She paused heavily, sighing several times. _"I did."_

Theresa's eyes grew wide, her blinking resuming and confusion splattered across her face. She turned to Ethan with her bewildered and shocked expression, he simply nodded towards the recorder he held and continued listening.

"_You didn't," _Fox argued quickly. _"No, I was drunk… I took advantage of you."_

"_Fox, you kissed me. And I kissed you back. And when you… I'd been dreaming of that for years."_

There was stunned silence and for some reason the shock had left Theresa's face. Perhaps because she had always suspected that her best friend was in love with her husband, or because she was so happy that something profound was taking place in front of her, all she could do was listen for what would be said next.

"_But, Whit, I—"_

"_Fox!" _she said, cutting him off. The sound of her palms hitting the steel table top echoed with a slap. _"I love you! I've been in love with you for a long time."_

The room Ethan and Theresa were in seemed to swirl.

"_What I did, Whit—" _Fox tried, but he was cut off again.

"_Don't you get it, Fox? I lied!"_

And then Ethan's face broke out into a huge smile, his teeth showing and small lines formed around his newly-aging eyes. Theresa looked over to him and opened her mouth to say something, but he simply nodded in the direction of the recorder and said, "Just wait."

There was a silent buzz coming from the recorder and Theresa could only imagine what Fox's face looked like at that moment. The last time she'd seen him, he had been in their home, happy to finally begin their renewed life. And then it was all shattered because of what was now known to be true as a false accusation. Rage boiled under her skin suddenly.

The next sound, after the minutes of silence, was the screeching of the metal chair legs against the cement floor. The sound sent angry shivers down Theresa's spine. It also sounded vaguely like scraping against a chalkboard; the sound piercing and sharp and asinine.

"_What?"_ Fox said incredulously as he stood, his feet hard against the cement. _"Why…? How could you do that?"_

Whitney only breathed steadily in response. She didn't say anything and Fox's questions hung in the air. Theresa was ready to shake the recorder to demand answers.

"_You might want to sit down, Fox," _Whitney said simply. Ethan vaguely remembered saying something very similar when he was in the same room with his client.

The sharp screeching of metal on cement was back and Theresa cringed.

Minutes passed. And then more minutes. The silence was hard against Theresa's ears, making her more and more nervous by the minute.

Whitney sighed once. Then twice. And then once more. Finally, after what felt like an eternity for the listeners, she continued.

"_I saw you," _she admitted shakily. _"At the hospital. When you were with Theresa."_

Theresa's own mind thought back to being at the hospital, and she wasn't sure what Whitney was referring to. In the past week, she had been in the hospital twice. Once when she found out she was pregnant, and again when she had her miscarriage. The thought still made her eyes water.

"_I saw you… propose… to her. Repropose, I guess."_

Then the wheels and knobs fell into the place in the large assembly line that was life. Theresa remembered Fox sitting before her, injured himself, still wanting to share his life with her. She looked to Ethan in time to see him grimace at the information.

Fox began saying something unintelligible, but Whitney continued.

_"I couldn't let you do that, Fox. After what she's done to you, to everyone. She doesn't love you, Fox."_

_"Yes, she does," _he said with as much conviction as he ever had. _"She does. She agreed to marry me again."_

_"Why?" _Whitney asked.

Theresa looked up to Ethan and he already knew what was coming. He wanted to warn her, perhaps cover her ears, but he knew she needed to hear the whole thing.

_"Because she loves Ethan, Fox. She always has. Before she met you, before she married you, after she married you, now, and even after you marry her again. She's marrying you because she can't have him." _There was a pause and Fox breathed a disapproving breath, scoffing lightly. _"She'll never love you the way she loves him."_

There was an even longer and strained pause after that. Theresa didn't look back up to Ethan, but she wasn't sure if it was out of shame, or because she didn't want to see the truth in his eyes. It was hard enough living her life.

_"I know,"_ Fox breathed out after a long while.

_"I won't let her ruin your life again, Fox. I won't."_

_"She hasn't," _he said firmly.

Whitney chuckled. _"No, you're right. She's only been miserable for the past two years, making you miserable, dragging you and your company down with her. Oh, and not to mention, she's been cheating on you for months." _

The bite and sarcasm in her voice was strangely reminiscent of how venomous Fox could be when he tried.

_"She doesn't deserve you, Fox," _Whitney whispered. _"But I… I love you, Fox. I would never do what she did to you. Ever."_

Theresa then looked up to Ethan, wondering just where the strange conversation could have been heading. She was confused, still unsure of what was going on. All she knew was that because Whitney had confessed that she lied about the rape, the case against Fox could have been dropped and that was all she cared about. Still, she found herself listening intently.

_"So what are you saying exactly?" _Fox asked finally. _"You want me to leave her?"_

The sounds of Whitney rustling with fabric was heard over the recorder. Theresa wasn't sure if she was simply sitting up or twirling a jacket in her hands, but the noise was clear.

_"I'm saying… if you break off the vow renewal, get a divorce… just let her and Ethan figure out their insanity once and for all… If you give us a chance… I'll drop the charges."_

And with that, Ethan's thumb pressed down on the green button and the small cassette stopped revolving inside the tiny plastic casing. Fox and Whitney's voices were gone and Ethan and Theresa were alone in his living room, with only the ghostly echoes of the conversation around them.

Theresa sat with her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Ethan was right, the case was his. The prosecution wouldn't have a chance when that was presented.

The rage that had been slowly brewing beneath the surface of her skin exploded into a blush of pure anger. Theresa stood quickly, her fists balling at her sides.

"I don't believe this! She would have Fox thrown in jail for ten years for something he didn't do for… for… nothing! Just so he could leave me!"

Right away she began rummaging through her purse to find her cell phone. She was going to call Whitney, throw every offensive word at her, remove her stance as best friend, and threaten to hire a hit man. This was her husband that was being toyed with like a toy soldier after all. She couldn't allow it.

"Theresa? What are you doing?" Ethan asked as he noticed her frantic searching.

"I'm going to call her. No. I'm going to call Alistair's old henchmen. Maybe they can take care of this for me."

Ethan stood, walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her gently. Her movements stopped as soon as they touched.

"Theresa," he whispered close to her ear. "You're just upset. Whitney wasn't thinking clearly. Give it time."

Theresa couldn't help but relax when she felt his hands rubbing her forearms slowly, calming her nerves with a simple touch. But just as soon as the two were conscious of their physical connection that buzzed in the air suddenly, they pulled apart, clearing their throats to excuse their behavior.

"Sorry," he apologized.

Ethan shuffled his feet, standing on one and then the other. Finally, he looked up and gestured towards the kitchen.

"I'm going to make us some tea and order some takeout? Is Thai okay?"

He didn't wait for her response before heading into the kitchen. Once there, he silently yelled at himself for allowing such a stupid infraction like getting close to her, touching her. Even the smallest intimate contact clouded his mind and made him want things that were out of the question.

Over the next few hours, Ethan and Theresa worked in the living room, making sure adequate space was between them. Chopsticks poked out of half-finished cartons of Pad Thai and Drunken Noodles, and Theresa was absentmindedly chewing on a spring roll while reading a thick textbook that Ethan had given her.

Ethan, too, was reading. More experienced in reading law texts than Theresa, he leafed through much quicker, his eyes scanning the pages for the information he needed. When he found something relevant to his case, he scribbled it down on his yellow legal pad and then continued reading. He was a legal machine.

Even though, according to Ethan, the case was already in the bag, he wanted to do adequate research to make sure that if the judge, for whatever reason, decided that the recording was inadmissible evidence for Fox's face, he was still prepared and would definitely do what he had promised Theresa—win Fox's case.

He knew it wouldn't be easy to prove without the tape considering the physical evidence and Whitney's accusation. She had no doubt told the ADA about Theresa' s pregnancy, Fox's stress, his drinking, and how he ultimately took it out upon her. A jury would have no problem sending a Crane to jail for the maximum sentence. Ethan was definitely worried. First thing in the morning, he was going to have a little chat with Dylan and see if he'd be willing to drop the case rather than tarnish his near-perfect record.

Eventually, all the noodles and spring rolls were eaten and the textbooks were piling up high on Ethan's coffee table. His legal pad was covered in notes, page numbers, and mangled lines that were supposed to be words and letters. But after hours of taking notes, his hand gave out to the point that it was almost illegible to him. It brought back memories of late nights in the library during law school. Thankfully, that time was over and done with. Still, as a corporate lawyer taking on a criminal case, a hard one at that, he felt like a student all over again.

Burning the midnight oil would have been putting it mildly. Ethan looked up to his silver art deco clock hanging on the wall, and from the position of the hands, it looked to be about two in the morning. But he couldn't be completely sure because the clock was supposed to be artful, and therefore lacked numbers and markers for actual time.

Ethan scanned a few more paragraphs and took a few more notes. When he felt as if his eyes were going to slip out of their sockets and roll around the pages in front of him, he rubbed them with his fingers and finally looked up. Across from him on the sofa was Theresa and once again, she was sleeping. She was slumped over the arm as she had been when he had first let her in, her eyes closed, her head thrown back at an angle that was sure to cause her pain in the morning, and her mouth hung open as she breathed.

Ethan threw his pen down and finally closed the books for the night. After he loosened his tie, he lifted himself from the couch as quietly as he could, making sure not to jostle her awake. He toed off his shoes before he stepped on the hardwood that led down the hallway to make sure that he didn't make any unnecessary noises. Ethan padded down the hallway in socked feet and slipped into his bedroom to get something for Theresa to sleep in.

"Theresa," he whispered close to her face when he returned.

"Mmm?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting slightly. She was definitely not fully conscious, but she wasn't entirely sleeping.

Ethan placed his hand on her shoulder and shook minutely, only enough to make sure that she would open her eyes fully. When she did, he put the clothes he retrieved in her lap. The smallest pair of boxers and t-shirt he owned were still too big for her, but it was all he had.

"I thought you might be more comfortable in this."

Theresa blinked groggily, rolling her neck when she sat up fully. "Thanks," she said as she rubbed her shoulder and grabbed the clothes.

"And don't think you're sleeping out here," Ethan said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. "The guest room is all yours."

Theresa looked down at the clothes in her lap and smiled weakly before turning back up to him. His face seemed to fall when he noticed her expression, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he mirrored her weak smile and headed back to his bedroom to remove his lawyer clothes. Whenever he removed a tie at the end of the day, he always asked himself why he picked a profession that demanded them.

Still undressing, Ethan hung up his jacket and tie in his closet before discarding his shirt and pants into a hamper in the corner. The tension from the day was leaving his body as he rolled his neck and placed his watch and wallet on the dresser close to the door. Down the hallway, he heard the guest room door open and close and he knew that Theresa had decided to officially retire for the evening. She had slept for a good portion of the day; still, she needed rest after a night without sleep.

Ethan, suddenly feeling like a stalker, standing pressed against his closed door and listening for any movements in the hallway. He wasn't sure what he expected to hear, but a piece of him was always on the lookout for her. Just knowing how close she was to him was unnerving and distracting. Yes, she had her own mansion to go sleep in, but there was no way he was going to ask her to leave. She very obviously wanted to stay with him—whether for comfort or company, he wasn't sure—and he wasn't going to send her away no matter how many sleepless nights he had because of it.

After several minutes of silence, Ethan turned off his light and folded himself into the comforter on his bed. When it was tucked under his arms, he stared up at the gray ceiling and felt exhaustion creeping over him. But with Theresa just down the hall, he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep any time soon, if at all.

Even though Harmony was a small town, or some kind of variation of small city, and even though Ethan lived in the downtown area, there was not enough bustle outside to prevent the natural noises of whatever insects or birds or other critters that made noise at night. It would have been enough to lull him to sleep any other night, but all he could do was watch as the green lights on his nightstand turned from 2:13 to a little after four. He was tired and still very wide awake.

It was only spring but the sun was already peaking out in a small thin orange line on the horizon. Birds were singing, much to Ethan's disapproval. And of course, once he was awake and could hear the incessant chirping of the birds outside, there was no tuning them out. He'd always wondered how something so small could be so endlessly annoying.

His eyes burned without sleep. He knew without looking in a mirror that they were cracked red and droopy, dark bags under his eyes no doubt. His brain wanted to sleep, it wanted to rest, but his heart, his racing memories, his very skin, wouldn't allow it. Ever since Theresa had stepped through his door the day before, he had told himself to turn off his heart. He tried, over and over again. But there was still a piece of him that was still hoping and wishing that she would change her mind. There was also a piece of him that was always calling out to her.

Ethan's brain was slowly falling, disappearing into the blackness behind his eyelids. Eventually, the brain always won against the body's pitiful attempts. Sleep was essential for life, and even if it had to shut down while driving or performing some other dangerous activity, the brain got its way. Ethan could vaguely hear himself breathing and knew he was falling. He was both thankful and afraid for the dreaming escape—it was for sure to be about Theresa.

The thin line between consciousness and unconsciousness was about to be crossed when there a tiny sound far away. Ethan felt as if he were slowly floating back down to his body as his ears honed in on the distant sound.

_Thump. Thump. _

"What?" Ethan asked into the silence of his bedroom.

_Thump. Thump. _

His eyelids slowly opened, cracking to reveal the ever-lightening room around him. And the sounds of the chirping birds rushed in. Once his ears were able to grasp onto the singing of the winged creatures outside, he was awake without question.

"Ethan?" he heard in a voice that was much too familiar.

Ethan leaned up, his eyes wide open. Theresa stood at the end of his bed in his worn out t-shirt and boxers. He thought she looked stunning in the shapeless clothes. Ethan, unsure of what to say, could only stare at the disheveled and newly-awakened woman at the foot of his bed.

"Do you mind?" Theresa asked as walked over to the empty side of the bed and pulled back the comforter that was still tucked beneath the pillow. "I don't like sleeping alone."

He didn't want to tell her just how much he minded. It was already too much having to work so close to her and not be able to touch her. It was bad enough that he was helping her free her husband from jail. But he couldn't deny her coming even closer when she asked. His heart wouldn't let him turn her away no matter how much it would affect him and destroy whatever little self control he had.

Ethan was just staring at her as he felt the bed shift next to him when her knee pressed down hesitantly. She was waiting for him to answer, just to make sure that it was alright for her to slip in next to him. Without really thinking, Ethan nodded quickly, slightly unsure if he was sleeping or not. It seemed much too fantasy-like for Theresa to come into his room under such circumstances.

The down comforter suddenly made a loud crinkling noise as Theresa pulled it down further and climbed in. She sat, swinging her legs under the comforter and finally laid down, breathing a deep sigh of relief. She sounded relieved, but Ethan was everything but. He was much more tense with her next to him than he had been when she was sleeping down the hallway.

Theresa curled on her side with her back to him. Ethan could only lie on his back, still staring at the ceiling and cursing the birds outside. The birds he could eventually tune out, even if it meant an hour or two, but he knew with Theresa there, there would be absolutely no sleep for the second night in a row. He had no idea just how he was supposed to perform his lawyerly duties without rest.

The room was getting brighter and brighter as the minutes passed, and soon enough, the sun would be up fully. Ethan's tired eyes only blinked slowly at the gray ceiling, wishing for some kind of peace. And that was when he felt her turn.

Theresa rolled halfway towards him, her shoulder touching his, and she craned her neck to get a better view of him. Ethan didn't move and he simply kept his eyes up at the ceiling. Finally, she lifted herself on her elbow and looked over at him closer.

"Ethan?" she whispered. "Are you sleeping?"

He blinked slowly and shifted his eyes as far to his right as he could. "No." He cleared his throat and closed his tired eyes for a second before opening them and turning back to her. "It seems impossible with you here."

Right away, as if struck, Theresa pulled the comforter she had wrapped in her arms close to her chest, recoiling. She immediately made to swing her legs out of the bed when Ethan grabbed her arm with his hand gently and kept her from going anywhere.

"No," he said, loosening his fingers on her arm a little. "That's not what I meant." Theresa stared at him and waited for him to continue, to explain. "Theresa… you have to know the effect you have on me. I'm… I feel restless when you're around."

Assuaged, Theresa began pulling her legs back under the crinkly comforter and lay down on her back. Seconds later, much to her surprise and to Ethan's, she curled up next to him and hid her nose against his bicep, laying her hand flat on his bare chest. Much like she did after the times they had made love in the recent months.

"I want to say that I'm sorry," she whispered. "For everything. For Fox, for the baby, for being here. I know it can't have been easy on you."

Ethan slowly wormed his arm out of her hold and threw it over and around her. For a brief second, panic flashed in Theresa's eyes as it must have seemed that he was going to pull away from her and send her out of the room. Though she knew she deserved as much, it would have broken her heart to have Ethan cast her aside—again.

Ethan's arm tightened around Theresa and lightly squeezed her to his side. Though he knew it was a luxury that should have been out of his reach, being close to her was far too intoxicating to push away when it was allotted.

They laid together in each other's arms in silence, neither really realizing that they were in breech of their contract to remain 'friends'.

"Theresa…?" he said, his fingers pressing lightly into the skin of her back.

She turned her head up to him, her hair brushing the underside of his chin. "Hmm?"

"You know I'd do anything for you?"

Theresa nodded against the sensitive flesh of his chest, humming softly. She didn't know how it sent crazy vibrations through Ethan's body. And when she did it again, she couldn't know the effect she was having on the self control he was trying so hard to rein in.

"I know," she whispered, slightly easing the pain Ethan felt being caused by her humming. "And I love you for it."

And the words were out and she couldn't take them back. Yes, he knew she loved him. She knew she loved him. But it was beside the point. She had told him in not so many words that they needed to bury those feelings, hide them from the world, and continue on with their lives. They needed to live separately.

Yet, laying in his bed, in his arms, saying those words close to his heart, something was beginning to shimmer inside of her. It was hard to say exactly what it was, but it was strong and it was bold. And it made her turn up to look into his eyes—his blue, blue eyes—and the next thing she knew, her lips were on his.

It wasn't the kind of kiss she was used to with Ethan. It was hesitant and tentative and both their eyes were open. It was as if they were both silently asking for permission to continue. But Ethan gave his when he moved his lips with Theresa's and allowed his tongue to gently touch her bottom lip for the tiniest of seconds.

It was enough encouragement. The hesitation was gone, their eyes closed, and Theresa collapsed on his chest as she further plundered his mouth with her tongue.

Warmth. Wet. Smooth. Real.

It was still a slow kiss, both unsure if they were going to be allowed to continue in the following seconds. But they were taking what they could.

Their mouths moved in a strange synchronism, different from all other kisses they'd ever shared before. Almost as if teenagers kissing for the first time, it was awkward. Theresa's elbow was digging into Ethan's lowest rib, her fingers were pressing into the back of his neck in a way that was almost painful. As for Ethan, he was sure that he was going to pull or strain a muscle in his shoulder with the way he was angling his head. But none of it seemed to matter. And at the same time, it did.

"Theresa," he said, popping his lips off of hers. He took a second to breathe and calm himself before he opened his eyes to look at her. When he did, he had forgotten why he'd separated them in the first place.

Theresa eyed him with a confused expression, her lips swollen and the area around her mouth was red. She looked like a child that had just attempted to eat a firecracker popsicle and failed. The look in Ethan's eyes wasn't angry or determined; he seemed to be just as lost in his own thoughts. His thumb was lazily stroking back and forth on the skin just at the edge of her bottom lip, weighing his options.

Ethan wanted to speak. He wanted to voice all his questions, all his doubts, all his worries. But for some reason, speechless looking at Theresa's dark eyes and her red mouth, all capacity to think left him. In a strange way, she had never looked more raw and more like herself. Tired eyes, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, rustled hair, and faint traces of smudged makeup made her look completely honest and vulnerable.

_Stop_, he was screaming in his head. _Stop this._

_Please._

Somewhere next to him, a few inches from where she was pressing her elbow in his ribs and possibly cracking one or two, he knew she was wearing a shiny ring on her finger. It wasn't just a wedding ring anymore. He had looked at it so many times after they'd made love. Sometimes in the morning light, sometimes he had to search for whatever shine it gave off in the dark of the night, sometimes it shone against the light from her office desk. No matter where he saw it, he had learned to view it as nothing more than an obstacle in his way. And as any Olympic hurdle jumper knew, obstacles could always be jumped over and left behind.

But the ring was something else now. It was no longer the wedding ring about a promise made with bad judgment and emotional tangles. Instead, it was a ring that symbolized the fact that Theresa had chosen Fox over him. Not because she had to—because she could have left her life in the mansion behind—but because she must have wanted to. She had chosen Fox over him knowing full well that she had undying love on the other side of the hurdle. She just didn't choose to jump.

Fox was in jail at that very moment, probably sitting in a cell complaining about the low thread count of his cerulean outfit. And tomorrow morning, Ethan would go into the station, make a call to the ADA and see if he could get the entire case dropped without harming anyone. It would be a shame if Dylan got a strike against him, after all.

That would also mean, if Dylan agreed to drop the case and save his ass, Theresa would be leaving with Fox and she would probably not even look back. Ethan would fade into the background of unused items and distant memories. He would become nothing to her.

But she was in front of him now, her mouth open and red, her eyes shining with encouragement, and Ethan couldn't push her away when he knew that it would the last time he would ever hold her. They were supposed to create one last memory at the hotel together, but that had only been a teasing and fleeting moment. It wasn't enough and it was covered in tears and pain and screams. And later, it was haunted by blood and a lost child. If they had to say goodbye for good—really for good—he would make sure that he had no regrets. When he dreamed about this night in the future, laying in bed all alone, he wanted to be sure that the memory was perfect in every way.

So he kissed her and pushed all his doubts and worries to the side. His questions be damned. Only one thing mattered and that was his love for Theresa. If she was willing to allow it, he would create a memory that would keep him alive for the years to come.

As they kissed, their awkwardness reminiscent of teenage years was lost. Theresa took her weight off her elbow and Ethan let out a slow breath into her mouth in relief. Ethan slid down and allowed Theresa to hover over him, his neck finally resting and the ball forming in his shoulder relaxed. They fell into habit of passion with ease.

Ethan's hands pulled up her body, starting at her hips, swelling over her curves, and bringing them up to hold her face to move it against his own. Theresa knotted her fingers in Ethan's hair, pulling him even closer. Already on top of him, her legs were hanging to the side of his body and she rolled over him fully, crushing their bodies together. Their feet and legs twisted and twined like the threads of a rope finding their purpose.

Ethan wasn't hesitant in his actions and he didn't ask permission as his fingers nimbly slid under Theresa's—rather his—shirt and began pulling it up and finally over her head. If Theresa had any doubts about what was going on, she didn't voice them and only continued. As the shirt came over her head, she raised her arms to allow Ethan to pull it off. Her hair went up with the cotton fabric neck and then spilled down around her shoulders and onto her back. Ethan could only stare. In the rising sunlight of the new day, her hair caught light and looked as if it were shimmering all on its own. The red in her hair complimented her mouth, Ethan noticed briefly just before she fell on him again, and they continued molding to each others' bodies.

Unlike the memory they had told themselves would be their very last together at Motel Harmony, this was entirely different. No tears, no pain, no screams, and the desperation they were feeling was like a man walking through a desert and his desperation for something to drink. It wasn't the desperation and anguish that usually accompanied when they were together. It was a desperation to solely have more of each other, not to change everything around them.

Somehow, in the lightening darkness of the room, in the quiet only mingled with their course breaths, they found peace with each other and within themselves. It would be goodbye and a final farewell. Ethan didn't want to cry and even better, he didn't want to hit himself in the head with the biggest bottle of scotch he could find. He just wanted Theresa—all of her—for the last time if it had to be.

They were tangled. Theresa was sucking and biting at Ethan's neck and he was using his foot to push his boxers off her lithe body. Without much coaxing, they slid down her legs and were lost somewhere in the sheets at the foot of the bed. He didn't care if he never saw them again, honestly.

Naked above him, Theresa moved her hands down Ethan's neck and over his bare chest. She seemed hesitant as she paused minutely over his stomach, but she continued downward and eventually found the elastic of his boxers. In one motion, she was inside the band and pushing the boxers down his legs.

Finally, they could feel all of each other.

It was almost too much for Ethan to take at once.

Quickly, almost quick enough to make himself dizzy, he flipped Theresa over and didn't pass the opportunity to push his hips into hers. It made a hard groan fall from his mouth. With his eyes still closed, he felt around her collarbones and neck with the tip of his nose before he navigated up to her ear. As soon as the tip of his tongue probed inside the shell, Theresa arched and shivered.

Ethan continued, licking and sucking on her earlobe, biting where he wanted, scraping his teeth other places, and breathing against areas he'd left traces of saliva behind.

Theresa was writhing beneath him, her hips constantly pressing upwards in search of something. Something else. Something different. Something hard. Something hot. Something that was conveniently located between Ethan's thighs.

"Patience," he rasped in her ear, his eyes still closed.

Theresa thrashed her head in disagreement. She pulled her hips upward again and made sure she ground up against him—where he'd feel it.

Ethan growled.

"No," she breathed.

To distract himself from what Theresa was attempting to do—or make him do, Ethan slid his tongue down from Theresa's ear and to the hollow between her collarbones. There he sucked and tongued his way up to her chin.

Theresa's hands were pressing at his back with stiff fingers, her nails leaving small crescent marks in his skin. And when he continued licking from her chin to the opposite ear to offer it the same attention as the other, Theresa slid her hands lower on Ethan's back and finally to hard, fleshy cheeks. She wrapped her legs high around his waist and locked her ankles, pushing her hands down as hard as she could, trying to get him where and how she wanted him.

"Now." Her breath was choppy, fast, strained.

This was the desperation. It seemed as if the hunger for each other never went away and would never lessen. There was no time for whispers and proclamations of love and feelings. There was no time for foreplay and kissing. They needed each other; they needed to be connected in the only way that mattered at that moment.

Ethan reached down between them, grabbing and positioning himself at her entrance. He felt a warm heat, a wet heat, and the minute contact made him feel as if he were falling into a black abyss. He hadn't moved, Theresa urging her hips upwards in attempt to make him move, and all he could do was stop and stare and feel.

His eyes locked with hers, the need to remember every detail extremely strong. He wanted to remember the way the rising sunlight hit the left side of her face and made one cheekbone appear sharper. He wanted to remember the bend of the pillow below her head, the way it cupped below her hair. He wanted to remember the way her bottom lip was tucked under her teeth in anticipation of a low moan. He wanted to remember the flutter between her collarbones that indicated her flowing blood. He wanted to remember how her hands slid up his back and wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. He wanted to remember the way her skin moved against his in a humid and sticky way that would have been uncomfortable in any other situation. He wanted to remember the way she breathed into his mouth as she kissed him, passing him her tongue.

As they broke apart from their kiss, Ethan reined in any and all control that he had left as Theresa continued to push herself upwards, begging him to continue. They both felt Ethan grazing her, barely penetrating her, and Ethan felt his entire body begin to shake. It was the shaking reminiscent of a weak muscle being asked to carry too much weight or hold too much resistance. Everything in him was screaming to go forward, melt into the woman beneath him, and make everything right. But he wanted to take the moment for what it was and held it for as long as humanly possible.

"Ethan," she breathed, pulling his lips down to hers again. She bit his lower lip, harder than a usual nibble and salved it with her tongue. "Please."

There was nothing between them, nothing stopping them. Except for Ethan. He moved, but only minutely. Perhaps even less than minutely. He wanted to savor every tingle, every shiver, every inch.

Theresa moaned in frustration when he stopped once again, still barely inside of her. In what appeared to be anger, Theresa wrapped her hands low on his butt again, pulling him down, not shy to press her nails into his skin. Ethan tried and failed to suppress a groan falling from the back of his throat when the pain her nails caused melted with the pleasure of everything else.

Ethan threaded his fingers into Theresa's hair, gripping her head firmly, his thumbs resting on her temples. His fingers applied enough pressure to ensure that he didn't hurt her, but also to let her know that she was driving him completely mad. But Theresa didn't care. So she continued.

She had her legs wrapped around his waist and she used every amount of muscle strength she had in her abs to pull herself up, taking him in without his permission. Ethan felt himself slide into her, her body hugging him with her familiar ripples and curves. It was then that he released the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Theresa," he chastised, his breath hard.

Theresa smirked against his shoulder and pulled herself up again, allowing her hips to move along his though he refused to move at all.

"Theresa," he groaned through clenched teeth, his resolve almost completely gone.

She didn't listen and she continued to move up and against him, taking him in as best she could.

Ethan's hands tightened around Theresa's head and she looked up at him, stopping.

"Stop," he said. "Please."

Theresa looked at him, unsure of what she was seeing on his face. She searched for uncertainty and the look that told her that he would leave in just a few seconds. But it was missing. She only saw desperation so she waited for him to speak.

"I just want…," he began, his eyes moving over whatever parts of her body he was able to see in the position they were in, "I want to… remember this."

Slowly, after a few minutes, Theresa began to understand what he was saying to her. And she had to admit that she probably should have been doing the same. Ethan wanted to remember what was about to happen between them forever, and she did too.

She nodded finally, her hands sliding up to the back of his neck to make him kiss her again. She stopped moving her hips and let the tension in her legs fall. Ethan pulled his hips back, pulling nearly completely out of her, and then he stopped. He stood still, his entire body shaking again.

"Ethan," she said, the tone of her voice begging and chastising at the same time. While she understood that he wanted to savor the moment, she hated how he chose to go about it.

Ethan kissed her in response, bending low to share his mouth with hers. He shook his head, rubbing his nose against hers, desperately trying to stop his body from shaking.

"Slow," he said. "Slow."

He kissed the point of her chin, moving down to her neck where he laved more kisses and whispers that she didn't hear. Theresa told herself to feel, to revel in Ethan's body, the feel of his skin on hers, his mouth on hers, his hands in hers. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feelings that he was bringing to life all around her. And suddenly, he grabbed her left thigh and raised it high to her chest, pressing it trapped between them. Theresa was about to open her eyes to see what he was doing when he answered her with a full thrust, slow though it was.

Theresa sighed and Ethan moaned.

"Theresa," Ethan breathed slowly, stopping his movement above her.

"Hmm?"

His thumbs traced her eyebrows and then his hands locked their gazes again.

"Being inside you… It's right. Because I'm home. Because I love you."

Theresa kissed him in response, repeating the words in her action. She didn't say the words back because she didn't need to. In truth, Ethan never really needed to tell her that he loved because she knew. Just like he knew she loved him. And always would.

They moved together, making love slowly with whispers and caresses and kisses. Theresa moved her hands down Ethan's body slowly, her fingers tracing each muscle, line, and bone as slowly as possible. And Ethan did the same, moving his hands over her body and making his fingers remember each smooth curve.

Theresa tilted her head upward and licked Ethan's Adam's apple with the tip of her tongue before she sucked at it. Ethan bit down hard to keep from getting more aggressive with her. While he loved being rough with Theresa at times—much like the time he took her on her kitchen counter—this was a time for slow and memorable lovemaking. He felt the coil in his belly begin to tighten far too much and was afraid it was going to break and it was far too soon.

Ethan grabbed Theresa's head, kissing her hard and deep and slow and soft. She twisted her fingers in his hair, tugging lightly. As Ethan moved above her, in the rhythm much like a rocking boat on calm waters, the building inside of him was near exploding. He reached down between them and used his thumb to draw circles around her extra-sensitive clitoris.

Theresa bucked beneath him sharply as if she'd suddenly been run through with electricity. Ethan moving inside of her, the sensation he was creating with his thumb, it was all getting to be too much. She grabbed onto his shoulder, needing a medium through which to divert the power and electricity that was flowing through her. Ethan moved down to kiss her and she moaned as his thumb pressed down harder in its circular movements.

"E—Ethan….," she moaned, writhing beneath him.

Ethan moved faster, his hips hitting hers harder than before. He held her leg higher, tighter, and didn't stop his thumb circles around her clitoris. As Theresa screamed his name, clenching around him, Ethan finally let go and the coil in his stomach broke free. He released into her with a hard breath, her name falling from his lips shortly after. They held each other, both just trying to regain their regular breathing.

Theresa closed her eyes, allowing her body to come down, and Ethan rested his head on her chest, absently drawing loose circles and strange patterns on her breast. Ethan could hear her heartbeat drumming against his ear and he smiled knowing that he'd done that to her.

Theresa rested her hand on Ethan's and they interlocked fingers, both still silent. Ethan noticed the ring on her fourth finger and he laid a kiss on her skin just under his lips.

"That was the last time… wasn't it? Our last memory?" he asked and Theresa let out a long breath through her nose.

She didn't respond; she didn't need to. And Ethan nodded against her chest, understanding. He couldn't ask for anything else because she'd given him something to cherish for the long and lonely years ahead. Thinking about the future made him ache inside. Though he would never feel complete without her, he would learn to live each day without her, as painful as it may be. He'd done it before and he would do it again. Somehow.

Theresa kissed Ethan's hair, massaging his scalp with her fingertips. Eventually, Theresa's fingers stopped and Ethan looked up to see that she'd fallen asleep, her breath falling steady, fluttering taking place behind her eyes.

It was almost 5:30 in the morning and it looked as if Ethan wouldn't be sleeping for the second night in a row, thanks to Theresa. The night before, her presence put him on edge. Tonight, however, if it was going to be the last night he'd ever hold her, he wanted to drink it in and remember every precious second.

The sun was rising higher in the sky and the night was chased away once again by the light. Ethan simply counted down the hours until he would have to arrange a meeting with Dylan and give Theresa back to her husband. He already began imagining what it would be like.

Ethan, the triumphant hero, the knight in shining armor, would go to the police station with Theresa. He'd request that his client be released and Theresa would wait impatiently at his side. Fox would be allowed to change into civilian clothes and he'd walk down the hall and out into the lobby, his face stretching into a smile when he saw Theresa. They would embrace and Ethan would be forgotten across the room.

After Fox and Theresa's had gotten married, Ethan contemplated leaving Harmony. Actually, he wanted to leave not only the country, but also the planet. He wanted to drift in space and darkness. He had actually made preparations to leave Harmony and move to New York. He'd bought the ticket, made reservations, even rented a loft for himself. And when the day came to move, to leave his old life and ghosts behind, he couldn't do it. Knowing that Theresa was in Harmony still gave him hope for some kind of life with her. So he stayed and offered himself any position in her life that he could. Even if it was sitting in his car and staring at her everyday, it was somehow enough to justify staying in Harmony and give him hope.

But that hope was gone now. Theresa would marry Fox, they'd be a family, and she'd never look back. Ethan was a part of her past that she would forget. And he no longer had any part in her life, no longer had any part in Harmony.

Ethan drank in the few remaining hours before they had to be up and just held her close, caressing her skin as she slept. He kissed her lips and her forehead sometimes, other times he just stared at her and all the imperfections that made her perfect to him.

By seven, Ethan knew that they had to start their day soon to get everything done for Fox's trial. So he got out of bed with ease and did his best not to make any noise to disturb her. He showered quickly and dressed in his closet in the dark. When he picked up his wallet and watch from his dresser, every movement he made sounded a thousand times louder than usual. He peeked over to Theresa to ensure that she hadn't been woken at all.

He made a pot of coffee and indulged in the ladyfingers that Theresa had made the night before. He stared at the swirling in his coffee each time he took a sip, trying to find a way to act when she finally did wake up. What they'd shared only hours before was something precious and something he'd hold onto for the rest of his life. And at the same time, he was sure that he wouldn't be able to treat it as such. She had made her choice to go back to Fox, and Ethan and his precious memories didn't have a place in it. So he would act as if nothing happened. Because it would be better. Because it was what they needed.

Ethan was still in the kitchen when Theresa got up. She stood in the doorway in the boxers and worn out t-shirt from the night before. She looked disheveled and tired, but Ethan didn't allow himself to focus on the reasons why she looked the way she did.

"Hey," she said with a yawn.

Ethan took a sip from his now-cold coffee and smiled up at her. He wasn't sure how to act around her now. He wasn't sure what to say actually. He was already beginning to feel nervous and she was still on the other side of the room.

She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. "Umm… I think I'll take a shower before we go."

Ethan nodded and took another cold drink of coffee as Theresa retreated from the kitchen and went to take a shower. As soon as she was gone, Ethan put his coffee down and breathed a deep sigh. He wasn't sure if it was relief he was feeling, or if it was strain or anger or frustration or guilt or nervousness. All he could be sure about, however, was the fact that he had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it through the day with Theresa at his side.

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Theresa asked Ethan after she got dressed. He was still nursing the same cup of cold coffee.

Ethan picked up his phone and showed it to her. "I called Dylan and he didn't answer. I left a message for him at his office. Hopefully he'll get back to me later today."

Theresa nodded and looked down to her feet, also no doubt unsure of how to act around Ethan.

"Um…," Ethan began, bringing Theresa's eyes back up to his, "I should go talk to Fox, though."

Theresa nodded. "Good idea. I'll go with you."

Right away, as Ethan dumped his cup in the sink, he panicked. "No. No, that's alright. I can manage. I did yesterday."

Theresa crossed the kitchen quickly, not allowing Ethan enough time to protest or move away. She took his face in her hands and pulled him down close to her. "Ethan? What's wrong?"

Ethan shook out of her grasp and stepped away. "Nothing. I'm fine."

Theresa slipped around him and roadblocked him from leaving the kitchen. "It's because of last night, right?" When he tried to step around her, she moved with him and stopped him further by placing a hand to his chest. "Ethan, don't do this to me. Please."

"What?" Ethan asked, still moving around her.

When he was gone, probably in his room off to find a coat, she shook her head and realized that it was probably for the best that they not acknowledge what had happened the night before.

Shaking her head to herself, fighting the tears that were beginning to build in the back of her eyes, she whispered "Nothing" into the lonely kitchen.

Theresa stared at the murky leftover coffee that puddle in the porcelain sink. The white beneath the brown made it look gray and it almost made her sick just looking at it. Still, she stared at it. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to now. Ethan obviously didn't want to talk to her, or be around her, and she couldn't really blame him. What had happened the night before, though it didn't feel like a mistake, certainly was with the way everything was with them and the situation with Fox.

Ethan walked into the living room and began scrambling with his books and notes to get ready to leave. Theresa didn't say anything as she grabbed her coat and her purse and grabbed the few notes she'd taken the night before as well. It wasn't lost on her that when she'd taken the notes, the air between them had been incredibly different. But she didn't know what to say to fix it, even if she wanted to.

Still without a word, she and Ethan walked to the door, their game faces on. They both knew that it was going to be a long day. A very long day.

Theresa twisted the doorknob and had just about pulled it open when Ethan's hand slammed against it and pushed it closed once again.

"No, wait. Theresa, wait," he said quickly. Theresa turned to face him, confusion clearly shown in her scrunched brows. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, running a nervous hand through is hair. "I just…"

Theresa understood. She knew what he wanted to say, she knew what he had to say, and she also knew that he shouldn't say it. If he said the words that were on the very tip of his tongue, the words that were dying to get out, she just might listen. And if she listened, she would take back everything she'd said to Fox. And if she did that, she'd hurt Fox more than she could imagine. And she couldn't do it. Not again.

Theresa quickly put her hand to Ethan's mouth and without a word, she stepped close and gingerly put her lips to his. Ethan was surprised, unsure of what she was doing and whether or not he should react as he wanted. Whenever he felt her close, he wanted to consume her. And with her lips against his, he forced his body to remain in calm mode and simply feel.

The kiss was as chaste as one of their kisses could possibly be. But it was what they both needed. Without saying anything, she let him know that she knew what he was feeling and she understood. And Ethan silently told her of his frustration and his love for her.

When Theresa finally pulled back, her hand stroked his chin softly and she looked up into his blue eyes. He held her stare for a long moment, searching. Theresa pulled his forehead down to meet hers and they breathed the same air.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

Without any tedious explanations , Ethan knew that she was sorry she couldn't be with him. She was sorry for what she'd done to him. She was sorry for their circumstances. She was sorry for what they'd done the night before. She was sorry that she wasn't sorry for the night before. She was sorry that she wanted more than she could have with him. She was sorry that she couldn't have what she wanted with him. She was sorry for loving him. She was sorry he loved her.

The tension in the air was gone and they were somehow able to continue the day without cold conversation and silence. They were going to do what they had to do and that was that. No expectations, no regulations. It was the life they'd chosen, despite everything else, and they were going to live it. Not together, but with each other for the time being.

* * *

"I asked the sergeant to bring Fox down. You can wait for him in there," Ethan said, pointing to the room that he'd decided needed a lot of color to look even remotely inviting.

Theresa looked over at the door and nodded. "Are you coming in?"

Ethan switched his briefcase into his other hand and shuffled his feet, shaking his head. "No, you two should have some time alone." He looked down, not wanting to see the expression on her face as he said that. "I'll… I'll try the ADA again and see if I can meet with him later."

Theresa wanted to say something, maybe even apologize yet again for the way everything was. But she knew that it was pointless. No matter how many times she'd apologized, or how many times she wanted to apologize still, it wouldn't change the fact that things were the way they were.

"Oh, Theresa?" he asked and she turned back to him. "Don't mention the tape just yet. I want to talk to Dylan first. Maybe he'll be able to get Whitney to drop the charges."

Theresa nodded again and walked into the cement block as Ethan watched. A piece of him, a very large piece, was starting to get angry knowing that the woman that he loved more than his own life, the woman that had shared his bed only a few hours before, was going to be locked in a room with her husband. Granted, he knew that nothing sexual or overtly intimate was going to take place while they were in there, but he hated the idea of sitting around knowing that they were together.

So he walked to the door adjoining the cement room and turned on the light. It was the same room where he'd recorded Whitney's strange confession the day before. He saw Theresa sitting at the metal table by herself, seemingly normal. But Ethan's eye that had become trained to read her exceptionally well knew that she was lined with tension.

Fox was dragged in minutes later and he was still wearing the terribly cheap-looking cerulean jumpsuit. He hobbled as he had the day before, his leg still stiff and casted. He recognized the woman sitting at the metal table just by seeing the back of her head, and as fast as he could, he hobbled over to the table. Fox stopped next to her and put his good hand on her shoulder.

"Theresa," he said, his voice sounding incredibly surprised.

Without a word, Theresa stood and wrapped her arms around her husband, embracing him intimately. Ethan made himself look away, suddenly very interested in the buttons in front of him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd taken note of the fact that she'd held onto him in a similar way the night before. He had to shake that thought lose very quickly.

"I didn't think you'd come," Fox said as they pulled back from each other.

They both took their seats and joined hands across the shiny table.

"Why? Of course I'd come, Fox."

Ethan watched them smile at each other in silence and a piece of him felt as if he were about to heave all over the blue carpet at his feet. But at the same time, it was good for him. It was good for him to watch Fox and Theresa interact, to know that Fox could make her happy in some way. That she would be okay after he left.

In the hours that he forced his eyes to stay open while holding her, he had decided to leave Harmony just as soon as he could clear Fox's name. He knew it would be like leaving a piece of himself behind, but he had to do it. For himself, for Theresa, even for Fox.

He wasn't going to say goodbye, he'd decided. Because it would be far too painful. In all the years that he'd known and loved Theresa, they'd shared so many goodbyes and they all bore memories of nothing but pain and torture. Even as he looked back on the times they'd said goodbye to each other, it never felt final and it always felt like another stab wound in the heart—a wound that never quite healed and eventually, his heart had become so scarred over, he wasn't even sure it resembled the beating organ anymore.

Years ago, he'd taken Theresa aside and explained that he was going to marry Gwen. It was the right thing, after all. How could he punish a woman that was good and faithful to him just because he'd fallen in love with another? He was brought up better than that. He was a Crane and Cranes were taught to do what was best for the interests of the family, of the company, of the name. Ethan's feelings were the last on the list of considerations. And so, like a true Crane, he'd taken Theresa into his arms, held her close, whispered how much he loved her in her ear, longed for her to understand how much she would always mean to him, and then left. In those words, in that embrace, he silently bid her goodbye. He pledged an undying love that would always be with him. How he cursed that day.

With Gwen, things were fine. They were happy, as happy as could be expected. Shortly after their marriage, Gwen had taken over as CEO for her father's company and took many trips to London on business deals. Ethan not only felt alone and dejected, but he really began to see that his marriage was nothing more than a money deal. Short of a business deal because Crane Industries had wealth and power to throw away, Hotchkiss Enterprises was nothing of importance to Alistair Crane. But the money that was shared between the two families only added to the power that Crane could boast.

And for two years, Ethan was alone most of the time. He slept alone, came home to an empty house, and even began talking to himself in full conversations when truly at a loss for company. Gwen was gone for weeks at a time, and even when she was home, they both had a lot of work to do. And that was right around the time that he'd seen Theresa in passing when he was out at lunch. He'd accidentally spilled coffee on his tie in the morning and went into a nearby shop to buy another. Theresa was looking at fragrances at an adjoining counter.

Ethan had stared at her, mesmerized. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was in person. In all his loneliness since marrying Gwen, he thought of her often. But he couldn't believe how skewed his memory was. Theresa bought a perfume in a strange-looking bottle in an eggplant color. She smiled and thanked the saleswoman and as she took her bagged purchase, she turned only to find Ethan staring at her.

At that moment, Ethan didn't care that he'd ruined one of his favorite ties with espresso that morning. Theresa invited him for a cup of coffee just to catch up, as friends, and he went along willingly. In fact, he was certain that he would have followed her even if she hadn't invited him anywhere.

Over a simple cup of coffee that Ethan couldn't even both thinking about, they chatted casually about their lives. Ethan wanted to know everything about her and what she had been doing with her life. Staying true to herself, Theresa had enrolled at the Fashion Institute of Harmony and had landed an internship opportunity in New York that coming summer. As she talked about how well she was doing, Ethan found himself regretting that he was no longer a part of her life to share in her excitement. From the moment he met her, he knew that she would one day be a huge success.

Ethan couldn't help it and had hesitantly asked her if she were seeing anyone. A piece of him flared with jealousy at the thought. She'd been his and the idea of any other man laying claim to her was repulsive. Thankfully for him, she'd denied any other involvement, claiming that she was far too scarred from her last relationship to ever fully believe in love again. Ethan's head had fallen in shame and he wanted to confess everything, he wanted to explain that he loved her, thought about her often, hated his life, and wanted nothing more than to be with her. But he didn't and he couldn't. Instead, when Theresa noticed that their light mood had changed, she made to leave. Ethan practically begged her to stay and they exchanged numbers to perhaps meet for coffee again—strictly as friends.

For the next few days, Ethan felt as if he were hypnotized and could see nothing but her. Thankfully, Gwen was out of town again and wouldn't be back for several days. When he could no longer take the loneliness, he caved to his desperation for Theresa and called to invite her to lunch. It was a regular lunch, simple. They chatted about old times and laughed at funny memories. But when Theresa got up to leave, he pulled her into a hug. He couldn't be sure why he allowed himself anymore than a hug, but he took it and she didn't deny him. With her body pressed so close to his, his mind whirled. Slowly, they pulled apart and the chemistry that had been there since the moment she'd spilled paint on him years before still existed. So he kissed her. And everything that had been missing in his empty marriage slapped him in the face.

In truth, he couldn't remember just how he and Theresa had managed to get from the bistro back to the house he shared with Gwen. There, that day, something began between them that he couldn't get enough of. Whenever possible, he saw Theresa. He would invite her to his office any free moment he had and she would sometimes call him and beg to see him at strange hours of the night. It went without saying that they were insatiable for each other. And for months, the affair carried on without Gwen's knowledge. Gwen was always a sore issue and Ethan knew that he couldn't carry on the charade between the two women forever. He knew in the back of his mind that eventually, it would have to end it with Gwen and finally be true to his heart. But still a Crane, he wasn't sure just how he was going to do that. And then one day, one painful and hurtful day, Theresa called Ethan over to her mother's house and broke off what had become his reason for living.

It was two weeks after Theresa broke off their affair that he learned of her relationship with Fox. At first, he thought it was laughable and would definitely last no more than a few days. Those days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. Soon after, Fox and Theresa were engaged and there was nothing that Ethan could do about it. He was afraid that he if went to Theresa and tried to convince her to stay away from his little brother, he'd only push her away. And only a week before the wedding, his mother had asked him to be his lawyer for her divorce from Julian Crane. In a moment of heated anger, she had finally confessed to Julian that Ethan wasn't his son by blood. The moment that Ethan learned he wasn't a Crane, he filed for a divorce. But it was too late. By the time he confronted Theresa at the church on her wedding day, she didn't believe him and wanted nothing to do with him. It broke his heart to watch her marry Fox.

But the wedding that tied the love of his life to another man was only one of many goodbyes to come. Every time he watched her outside her office window, every single time he drove away, he said goodbye. Seeing her at the mansion and walking away, not taking her in his arms, he said goodbye. The morning after he'd finally taken her in his arms, made love to her as he'd only dreamed, he said goodbye. Over and over again, he said goodbye. And each one was just as equally painful as the last. But they would end. When the case was over, he was going to leave and the goodbyes would finally stop. The saga of Ethan and Theresa would be no more.

"Fox," Theresa said, her voice bringing Ethan out of his reverie. She sighed hard, obviously pulling strength to continue speaking. "I don't want you to take Whitney's deal."

Fox blinked and tilted his head in confusion. He was no doubt wondering just how she knew about the deal at all considering that he had been alone with Whitney the day before.

"Fox?" Theresa asked when he didn't respond.

Fox pulled his hand away from her and cleared his throat. "I have to."

Ethan watched as Theresa leaned over the table towards him and took his hand again. Ethan had to look down at the hundreds of buttons on the panel before him. Just watching Theresa touching Fox made his chest ache and pulse in pain.

"No, Fox, no, you don't."

Ethan looked up to them when he didn't hear a response from Fox.

"Fox, what you did was wrong," she began, the tone in her voice growing more rigid. "But you didn't rape Whitney. That much I know. You would never do something like that."

Fox looked up to Theresa, his eyes clearly hard, even from where Ethan was sitting.

"I don't want to talk about that right now," he said simply. His voice was still hard, his mouth tight.

Theresa pulled her hand from his and sat back up straight. "What do you want to talk about then? What could be more important than this?"

Fox inhaled sharply through his nostrils and he licked his lips patiently.

"I want to know why," he began, allowing his first clause to hang in the silence. "Why did you ask Ethan to take the case?"

Ethan watched them intently, curious to hear the answer to Fox's question himself. Theresa stared at Fox, a strange expression on her face. It was something between shock and anger. Fox stared at her, waiting for her answer patiently, clearly uncaring how much the question obviously bothered his wife.

"What?"

Fox sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Well, he crossed his arms as best his could with a massive cast on one wrist. He looked rather comical.

"Why Ethan, Theresa? Why not get one of my lawyers to defend me? I only have six on the payroll."

"I can't—"

"You could have gotten any other criminal attorney in the country, Theresa!" he interrupted. "Why Ethan?"

Ethan suddenly felt his heart rate increase. He had leaned in closer to the mirror and was desperately waiting for Theresa's answer. Just like Fox, he wanted to know if she had asked him to take the case because she simply wanted to be close to him for the duration.

Theresa cleared her throat and held her calm. "It was in our best interest."

"Best interest?" Fox asked, his awkward-folded arms uncrossing. "Whose best interest, exactly? Yours? Because it certainly isn't in mine."

"Yes it is, Fox," Theresa responded steely calm.

Fox gave a sarcastic chuckle. "In what way? Ethan's a corporate lawyer, Theresa. Or did you forget? He works with numbers and rich guys that only want to get richer. He hasn't done criminal law since he was in law school.

Theresa crossed her arms in her own defensive stance. "Ethan's a good lawyer, Fox."

Fox nodded slowly, still silent. He leaned forward across the shiny table, much like Ethan had done the day before. "I know he is. But is that the only reason?"

Theresa swallowed thickly. "Is that the only reason what?"

Fox smirked. "Is that the only reason that you asked him to take the case?"

Ethan leaned closer to the mirror, anxious to hear what she was going to say. A part of him wanted her to admit that she wanted to be close to him given her impending remarriage. Another part of him hoped that she would stick to what she was saying so that he would be able to let her go when everything was finished.

"What exactly are you trying to ask me, Fox?" Theresa asked him, anger creeping into her voice.

Fox cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair as far as he could. He was no doubt subconsciously preparing himself for the fury that she would give him when he asked her the question that was hanging from his tongue.

"So…," Fox began slowly, "you asking Ethan to take my case has _nothing_ to do with… with you wanting him to take the case, does it?"

Ethan was leaning so close to the mirror in front of him that his nose was almost smudged against it.

Theresa didn't answer and waited for Fox to clarify his question.

"Did you just want to be close to Ethan while I'm in here?" Fox asked finally.

Ethan turned to Theresa, wondering the same thing. He was still at war with himself inside, unsure of what he truly wanted her to answer.

The anger was clear on Theresa's face. Ethan wasn't sure whether to take that as a good or a bad sign.

"Are we back to that?" she asked, her voice growing loud in the small cement room. "Are we?" Theresa quickly lifted her left hand, palm facing her, showing Fox her ring. "I made you a promise, Fox. Ethan and I are over."

The war inside Ethan was over, but he was unsure what part of him won. He couldn't be sure whether he was happy or sad to hear her answer. Ethan didn't miss the fact that she hadn't really answered Fox's question, but she was once again reminding both men that she was planning on marrying Fox for the second time.

At realizing that he would have to let her go, Ethan felt the familiar sharp pain in his chest. He felt it every time he thought of life without her. And the night before would be the last time in his life that he would ever feel complete. The memory of being with her, being inside of her, holding her, watching her sleep, was to become his life source.

His memories were cleared as he saw that Theresa hesitantly got up from her chair and began walking around the table to Fox. She sat on the table next to him and took his hand in hers. Ethan took note of how tender her face looked. It was how she looked when she felt guilty. He'd seen it often in recent years. And he hated seeing it on her face when looking at Fox. Without thinking, Ethan got up and walked out of the private-viewing room. He wasn't sure what was going on between the two in the two seconds it took to walk into the hallway and over to the door to the interrogation room, but he didn't even want to think about it. With a short knock, he let himself into the room and interrupted them.

Theresa immediately dropped Fox's hand and turned around to face the door to see who had entered. When she saw it was Ethan, a strange expression crossed her face. It was something between relief and gratitude.

"Uh," Ethan said, unsure of what to say now that he was in the room with them. "I'm going to head over to Dylan's office. Maybe he'll be there and I can get a few minutes to talk to him."

Theresa hopped off the table and walked over to Ethan by the door.

"I want to go with you," she said in a whisper, probably to keep Fox from overhearing.

The way she spoke, her soft voice, reminded him of the way she'd spoken to him just the night before. He remembered how desperate she sounded, how sultry her voice became. He could remember with perfect clarity how she breathed and how it felt to feel her mouth against his skin.

Ethan shook as if he'd gotten a chill and focused back on Theresa. He looked over to a very perturbed-looking Fox still sitting at the table and shook his head. "No, that's alright. You know, lawyer talk and all that. I shouldn't be long. You should stay here with your husband."

Theresa did not miss the slight that Ethan had passed her. She couldn't blame him, though. Yes, he was undoubtedly angry for the choice she was making, and she couldn't hold it against him entirely. She wasn't even one hundred percent sure that she was making the right choice in the first place.

Theresa stared at Ethan and crossed her arms in front of her, an action any body language expert would claim as defensive and vulnerable. She was no doubt also remembering the night she'd shared with Ethan and realized that perhaps it was indeed in her best interest to stay away from him.

Theresa nodded and Ethan was about to head out of the room when he had to fight the instinct to kiss her before leaving. He had to mentally tell himself that she was not his to kiss, she was not his to hold, she was not his period. She belonged to the man sitting at the shiny table in the middle of the room.

* * *

When Ethan was being groomed as the Crane heir, he went into law school in order to better assist and work at Crane Industries when Alistair finally kicked the bucket. Seeing as how he would be spearheading a Forbes 100 company, it was in his and his family's best interest for him to specialize in corporate law. He'd never minded, and often found himself pitying the long and frustrating hours of criminal lawyers. But now, as he rode the elevator up to Dylan Thomas' ADA office, he found himself wondering if perhaps he had gone into the wrong specialty.

Finally at the floor, Ethan stepped out onto plush carpet and through a frosted glass door. Many business-suited people were buzzing around him, some on cell phones, other holding books and files, and he had to admit that the energy was intoxicating. His office, while paid for by the finest corporate crooks and embezzlers, was definitely in the finer-office-type category, but there was something different about the prestige and political notoriety that surrounded Dylan's office.

"Ethan Winthrop?" Ethan heard as he stepped into the office labeled with Dylan's name.

"Yes?" Ethan asked as he turned around to face the receptionist sitting at the large desk. She was an older woman than Ethan was used to seeing in her position, probably in her fifties.

"Mr. Thomas has been expecting you," she said with a smile. She waved her arm out to the side to point Ethan in the way of Dylan's office.

Ethan smiled in thanks and headed down the hallway. Several people passed him as he walked and they each slinked past him with a courteous smile and desperate faces reminiscent of his law school days when studying and finding answers was all he did.

Finally at the end of the hall was a heavy door surrounded in panels of frosted glass. In the center of the wooden door was a plaque that read: Dylan Thomas, Esq in fancy golden lettering. Ethan shook his head at the elitistness of Dylan's character. He'd been that way at Harvard as well.

The door was cracked open and Ethan tapped a gentle knock before pushing it open to look inside the office. Ethan spotted Dylan in his Aeron chair, his feet up on the corner of the desk, a phone attached to his ear. From what Ethan could make out, Dylan was explaining to the person on the other end that swinging a golf club four times at someone's head was definitely not an accident.

"Look, Steve, I like you. I really do," Dylan said as Ethan took the seat in front of his desk like a client, "but honestly, you can't be serious with that explanation. You'll be begging a jury to take my side."

Ethan cleared his throat to announce his arrival and Dylan spun to face him. Holding up a finger at Ethan to indicated he'd only be a minute longer, he smiled and continued with whomever he was speaking to.

"Steve, Steve, Steve," Dylan sighed quickly. "Your client doesn't even own golf clubs. He admitted to never going golfing in his life." He chuckled and rubbed the side of his face with his free hand. "Alright then. I'll see you in court." And then he dropped the phone into its black cradle on his desk. "Sheesh….," he sighed as he straightened up in his chair and turned to look at Ethan. "Oh well, open and shut case, I guess." He smiled a large and somewhat creepy smile. "So… what can I do for you, little Ethan Crane."

Ethan sighed in exasperation at his old nickname. When he first landed at Harvard, everyone had already taken to calling him by his first and last name because apparently he was like any other celebrity. Angelina Jolie was not just Angie to the media. She wasn't even Angelina. She was Angelina Jolie. Somehow, first and last name were fused together to define the person as a whole. The "little" portion was added when he had joined the intramural wrestling team as a way to blow off steam after studying for hours on end. In his youth, he had been long and lanky, far from the well-muscled and hardened body he now owned. So as a lightweight, he came to adopt the adjective "little" as a strange oxymoron compared to his last name. He hated it.

"Winthrop," Ethan clarified in hard voice. "I go by Winthrop now."

Dylan nodded and leaned his chin on his fingertips as he folded his elbows on the desk before him. "That's right. I heard something like that a few years back. Mom was kind of a slut in her younger years, huh?"

Ethan's hand tightened in his lap and his knuckles grew to white. His every instinct was telling him to jump on the desk and pummel Dylan's face until it was beyond recognition. The man had simply never lost the blue-blooded snobbery that often came when attending such schools as Harvard University. And even though Ethan wanted to let out some of his building testosterone, he held it at bay. If he beat Dylan before he gave him the proposition of dropping Fox's case because of Whitney's tape, he would have failed Theresa. And that was something that he promised to never do again.

"So," Dylan said at Ethan's tense silence. "Got your message." He shrugged. "What's up?"

Ethan seated himself further in the chair, getting himself comfortable. He cleared his throat in dramatic fashion and waited until Dylan was basically shaking with anticipation.

"Well?" Dylan asked impatiently. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Ethan smirked and nodded. He opened his briefcase in his lap and looked at the small black tape recorder that was going to be the keystone in the entire case. With it, he was able to save Fox. Without it, he wasn't really sure that he had much of a shot. He'd gone to school with Dylan, after all. He knew just why Dylan had been nicknamed "Bulldog".

"You might want to call Whitney," Ethan suggested as his thumb ran over the square buttons on the side of the tape recorder.

Dylan smiled in a wide and unsure smile. It was the kind of smile politicians gave when they were asked a question they were unsure they should answer. It was the smile that gave away lies, the smile that made trust bounce out the window.

"Why would I do that?" Dylan asked, still smiling. He leaned back in his chair and jiggled his Rolex around his wrist in a way that made a tinkling sound.

There was something so triumphant inside of Ethan that was screaming to play with Dylan. Now that he sat before him in his fancy office, with his fancy watch and fancy suit, Ethan wanted to show him how much all of that was simply show. There was talent, and there were legal skills. Ethan had to rely on both rather than a flashy outfit to get what he needed in a courtroom.

Ethan pulled the small black tape recorder out of his briefcase and held it up, shaking it in a deliberate attempt to taunt Dylan.

"I have something you might want to hear," Ethan said, too much confidence in his voice. And without another second's delay, he stood it upright on Dylan's desk and pushed the small green button that would cause it to talk—to sing.

With a slow staticy sound, the tape whirled inside its plastic case and soon Whitney and Fox's voices filled the silence in the office. With each word, Dylan's pallor grew paler and paler, his eyes wider and wider.

Finally, after the full conversation was over, a smug smile playing on Ethan's lips, the tape stopped and the green button popped back up. Ethan cleared his throat as he reached out to the desk to retrieve his tape recorder.

"So…," he said, his voice sounding much too confident. "Think maybe you should call your client in?"

Dylan blinked. And then he blinked again. His eyes seemed to be twitching in his confusion. After several shaking breaths, he finally shook his head and he was able to focus on Ethan.

"Uh…," he tried to articulate. "You… That wasn't…"

Ethan chuckled lightly and plopped the tape recorder back in his briefcase. "Oh, no. I assure you, that's really Whitney. I may be smart, but I'm not a tech whiz."

Dylan was still reeling from the admissions he heard on the tape.

"But I…," he tried to speak again.

Silence covered both lawyers for several minutes, both unsure of what to do and what to say. Ethan still had the smug smirk on his face, and he was simply waiting for Dylan to say something that might embarrass him. It was unusual to see Dylan so confused, so at a loss for words, and Ethan was drinking it up and saving it in his memory for another time when he needed something amusing to think on.

Ethan tossed the tape recorder up in the air and watched it spin before it fell back into his hand. He knew he was being extremely cocky and extremely confident, but he didn't care. He knew Dylan too well to know that he was no longer going to attach himself to a losing case—not with his record. Any failed number on Dylan's repertoire and he wouldn't be able to run for DA, perhaps not Supreme Court judge, and later, definitely not president.

Dylan finally sat up straight in his chair and shook his wrist, obviously loving the feel of gold against his skin. He pulled at the lapel of his suit jacket and straightened his tie and Ethan smiled even deeper.

"That—that, that won't work," Dylan finally managed.

Ethan tossed the tape recorder up and caught it again. "Oh, I think it will." But there was something fluttering inside Ethan's chest that wasn't as confident as his exterior. And Dylan saw the sudden break in composure.

"You know that won't hold up in court," Dylan said smugly, a smile breaking his face. "You recorded that without their knowledge. It's inadmissible."

Ethan was afraid of that. Still, he knew he had a card to play.

"Maybe," Ethan said, shrugging. "Maybe not."

Dylan shook his watch around his wrist again. "You've been out of law school too long, little Ethan Crane. You need to brush up on your criminal law before you go toe-to-toe with me. It's definitely not."

Ethan tossed the tape recorder up in the air again. "Okay, so it's not admissible," Ethan admitted. And he knew that. He hadn't told Theresa, because he wanted to give her some hope. He knew that a recording taken without the knowledge of the persons involved was technically illegal, and therefore inadmissible as evidence. "But, c'mon, Dil," Ethan said, shrugging, "You know it's not a real case. She lied. You still gonna bulldog your way through the case?"

Dylan was silent a moment and he leaned back into his Aeron chair, eyeing Ethan seriously. Ethan was right because he hated to lose. It was the worst thing in the world.

"You're just doing this to save Foxy's ass," Dylan finally said, not concluding anything at all.

Ethan's eyes turned cold. "Fox," he said, his voice rigid and gritty. Though he may not have seen eye-to-eye with Fox all the time, and though they definitely had their problems long before Theresa came into their lives, they were still brothers and that meant that they were still blood. "His name is Foxworth, Dylan. Fox for short. Not Foxy."

Dylan chuckled at Ethan's attempt to defend his little brother.

"Besides," Ethan added, his tone dropping its chill, "he's innocent. You can't really try to send him to prison for something he clearly didn't do. You heard it with your own ears, Dil!"

Dylan chuckled again and he pulled at his tie, his confidence back. "True… But I don't have to send him to jail for rape, Ethan. You know that. I can send him in under a ruse for rape and punish him for the countless boozy affairs and gambling problems he had in his youth." He cracked a slimy smile.

Ethan's eyes grew wider. "Those aren't crimes. And you know it."

Dylan's shoulders went high up to his ear. "Maybe. But it's a personal crime when he seduces my fiancée. Very. Personal."

Ethan shot up out of the seat. Dylan was getting more and more twisted and self-righteous with each passing second.

"Listen, Dil," Ethan said, his composure slowly coming over him again. "I gave you a chance to back out gracefully, to save your name and your reputation. I don't care if I can't take this to court," he said, waving the small tape recorder in his hand before stuffing it in his pocket. "Just so you know, Whitney Russell is a friend. And she's my…" And he stopped, thinking about Theresa.

He wasn't sure how to label her. She wasn't his lover, she wasn't his wife, she wasn't anything. She had said that she wanted to be friends, but they couldn't simply just be friends. As evidence of that, he thought back to last night, when he held her and pressed his body into hers, melting inside of her and rocking above her.

"She's uh… she's my friend's best friend," he continued. The word felt vile on his tongue when describing Theresa.

Dylan nodded, another slimy smile spreading over his face. "Oh yes. I know. But from what I've heard, you and Theresa Crane are not just friends." He let that hang in the air and watched as Ethan's face flushed and fell. "Are you?"

Ethan had to shake his anger loose. He wasn't quite sure why he was getting so angry, but he controlled himself long enough to speak what he needed to say and leave the office before he seriously injured opposing counsel.

"Look," Ethan said, as calmly as possible, "you know Fox didn't do this. I know Fox didn't do this. Whitney knows Fox didn't do this. She said it once, she'll say it again. I'll get a warrant if I need to. The point is, I will get her to drop the charges. Somehow, I'll do it. And when it's over, I'll make sure I tell the media that you, Dylan Thomas, golden boy ADA, knew he was prosecuting an innocent man and only continued to settle a personal vendetta. Think they'll still vote you in as DA when the town hears that?"

And without another word, Ethan picked up his briefcase and walked out of Dylan's office, not even bothering to look behind him.

* * *

Ethan parked his Lexus in the Harmony Police Station parking lot and as he stepped out, a squad car passed him and the driver made sure to give him an angry eye. Ethan looked to make sure he hadn't parked in reserved police parking, and he saw no sign indicating as such. But as he looked around, he saw that his black car was surrounded by white and blue ones sporting red and white lights on the tops.

Ethan shrugged and pulled his briefcase from the passenger seat and closed the driver door, alarming his car and locking the doors before he walked away. Just as he crossed the grassy patch from the parking lot to the steps leading to the revolving front doors, he spotted Theresa sitting on the steps, her head in her hands.

"Theresa?" he asked, his concern rising in his chest. She looked up and Ethan almost broke into a jog until he reached her. "Theresa? What's wrong? What happened?" He had immediately begun to fear the worst. He knelt in front of her and tried to ignore the burning cold that the cement below his knee was pushing into his bones through his thin pant material.

"Ethan," Theresa said softly, a smile breaking out over her face.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes scanning over her body for any damage, searching her eyes for any tears.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just came out for some air." She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. "They took Fox back into the holding cell so I came out here to… get away from the gray. It's really dark in there."

Ethan breathed a deep sigh of relief to know that everything was okay. And he was also thankful to be able to get up off his knees. Granted, he would have knelt in a tortured prisoner position for a week straight for Theresa, but if he didn't have to, if Theresa wasn't in danger, why should he continue kneeling on cold cement steps?

"Did you… did you talk to the DA?" Theresa asked hesitantly, a part of her afraid to ask for fear that it might have gone the opposite way from their plans and Fox would eventually be going to trial.

"ADA," Ethan corrected. "He's only Assistant DA. But yeah, I talked to him."

Ethan wanted to desperately divulge the truth about not being able to legally admit the tape recorder as evidence. He hated lying to Theresa, a piece of him felt like he was getting her hopes up without a real guarantee. But he couldn't crush the small piece of hope that she was clinging to. He wouldn't do that to her. So he smiled.

"And… I think we have a shot, Theresa," he said, still smiling.

Theresa smiled too and jumped up in front of Ethan. Because of her position on the stairs, she was slightly taller than he was at the moment.

"Really?" she practically squealed in excitement.

Ethan nodded, guilt rising inside of him going unaddressed. "Dylan can't risk ruining his reputation." Though he wasn't sure that Dylan was going to do the right thing, he certainly hoped that his reputation garnered more than a personal vendetta.

Theresa surprised Ethan when she jumped on him. She jumped from her step, throwing herself onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Thankfully, she was light and Ethan was able to maintain his balance rather than falling back.

Theresa held onto him for what was probably too long for their "friendship". They pulled away quickly, after having realized just how long they'd been pressed together. Ethan steadied her on the step as he helped her back to her feet.

"Um," he began, clearing his throat. He unwrapped his arms from around her and gestured towards the revolving doors of the police station. "I should probably go tell Fox about this. You know… give him some hope."

Theresa nodded and they stood there on the steps only staring at each other. Ethan finally dislodged himself from her eyes and began walking up to the doors.

The police station was still in the same form of bored chaos. Cops were this way and that, some with their feet propped up on their desk, others drinking coffee, some looking over reports, some on the phone. But the noise level of ringing phones, voices, and movement made everything seem more chaotic than it was.

Ethan desperately searched around for an officer that wasn't busy, and one that wasn't pretending to be too busy to help him. It seemed that the Harmony PD was just hit with a flood of crime and the officers simply looked away.

"Noah?" Ethan heard next to him. He looked down and saw that Theresa was staring straight ahead, her face in a frozen state of shock. Ethan followed her eyes to a man on the other end of the room, a mop of disheveled dark hair in his eyes and dimples that were passed down from their father.

Ethan's other half brother walked over to them and he couldn't help but notice just how much Sam had passed down onto his second son. It was as if Sam were walking toward them. Noah, while not in a police uniform, carried the air of Sam. He had the same blue-collar and hardworking posture, and the smile to tell any and all that he enjoyed life and wouldn't have it any other way.

"Theresa," Noah said with a smile, his lips breaking open to reveal shiny teeth. Theresa went forward and fell into Noah with a ginger hug and Noah wrapped his arms around her small body tightly. After she pulled back, she put her hand to his face.

"Still have a baby face," she said lightly.

Noah smirked and looked up as Theresa took her place next to Ethan again. "Ethan." There wasn't as much pleasure as there had been when greeting Theresa, but it wasn't hatred or dislike as it had been in years prior. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked as he tucked the file folder he held under one arm.

Theresa's happy face fell and the smile was gone within an instant.

"We're here to see Fox," Ethan answered, knowing how hard it would be for Theresa to say the words.

Suddenly, Noah's face distorted into a mask of confusion and loathing all at once. He looked at Theresa and then his eyes skipped down to her hand. Theresa, knowing that he was looking at her wedding ring, covered her left hand with her right and took a step closer to Ethan.

Noah looked down at his feet and stepped from one to the other. He looked up slowly, nodding. And then, right before their eyes, Noah transformed from the happy-go-lucky son of Sam into the all-business Harmony PD detective.

"For the record," Noah said in his all-cop-business voice, "I'm the one that took Whitney's statement." He glared at Theresa. "I have no sympathy for him."

Theresa shook at Ethan's side and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her against him. There was a piece of Noah, even now, that Ethan fiercely respected. Perhaps it was because Sam was looking out through his younger son's eyes, or perhaps because he found the accusation as disgusting as Ethan did. Either way, Ethan mentally calmed himself from growing angry.

"Let's get some coffee," Ethan said, breaking the small conversation with Noah. He pulled Theresa close to his side and walked to the other corner of the room where the cheap coffee pot full of burnt coffee and a box of stale donuts sat.

Theresa poured herself some terrible coffee with shaky hands and Ethan took the small Styrofoam cup from her so she wouldn't spill it on herself.

"I can't believe he said that," she whispered.

Ethan sat back in the plastic chair and wrapped his arm around Theresa again. His chin rested on her head and when he nodded, she felt the bones moving together.

"I know," he sighed. "But it's his job, Theresa." He paused, weighing his next words carefully. "If I were in his position… I'd think the same way."

Theresa sat up straight immediately and put her hand to Ethan's chest. "But Fox would never—"

Ethan covered her hand with his. "I know that," he said, grabbing both sides of her face then. "And you know that. But Noah doesn't. He's never met Fox. He doesn't know how our mother raised us."

Theresa fell against him and let him wrap his arms around her. She felt helpless. As if she and Ethan were the only ones in the entire town that believed Fox to be innocent. But it didn't matter. Ethan had said that the tape recorder would be their saving grace. And she believed him.

"Well it's about time," a deep raspy voice said above them.

Ethan looked up to see a very round man with a walrus mustache standing next to them.

"Sorry?" Ethan asked as Theresa sat up on her own.

"You're Winthrop, right?" Ethan nodded. "Hobbs," he said, identifying himself. "I called you about an hour ago. Left you a message." The stout policeman grabbed a powdered donut from the white box and bit into it quickly, powdered sugar scattering all over his mustache.

Ethan dug into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. As he pressed a button to light up the screen, he saw that the battery had died. His mind whirled into the night before when he had been so caught up in thoughts of Theresa that he hadn't remembered to charge his phone.

"Yeah," Ethan said, showing the policeman the black screen, "sorry. My phone's dead. What was the message?"

"Your client had a visitor," he said, his mustache sending sprinkles of sugar down on them. Theresa wiped a few white dots from her black pants and scowled when they smeared into a white streak.

"My client?" Ethan asked. "Who came to see him?"

Hobbs stuffed the rest of the donut into his mouth and clapped the fallen sugar from his blue uniform. The material, to Theresa's dismay, seemed to repel the white substance and left no streaks behind unlike her pants.

"Pih rong reen," he said through his stuffed mouth. Ethan raised an annoyed eyebrow and waited until Hobbs had masticated and swallowed the ball of dough and sugar. "Pretty young thing," Hobbs clarified. "Dark, skinny. A little too skinny for my taste," he noted, slapping a hand to his protruding belly. "Said she was his friend."

Ethan and Theresa both stood up quickly, their faces taking on looks of severe panic.

"Whitney," Theresa whispered. An angry shiver went down her spine.

Ethan checked his watch and then looked back up to the officer who was now smoothing his tongue over his sugary teeth.

"You didn't let her in to see him, did you?"

Hobbs nodded. "Yeah, a few minutes ago. We said no at first, made her wait until you said it was alright."

"But I didn't!" Ethan snapped.

Hobbs shook his head and wiped away more fallen sugar. "But that guy," he said, squinting and pointing a chubby finger across the station, "said it was okay."

Ethan recognized the pointed-out officer as the one that had stopped Whitney from seeing Fox the day before. He had also been the one present when Ethan allowed it. Ethan cursed under his breath.

"She's still in there?" he asked, anxious.

Hobbs nodded and Ethan grabbed Theresa's hand and ran down the hall to where the interrogation rooms were. Once again, he stopped outside the room next to where he knew Fox and Whitney were and searched around, careful to make sure no one saw. Ethan looked down the hallway to be sure that no one was watching; he wasn't entirely sure if he was allowed to be using the observation room.

When it was clear, Ethan opened the door and held it open for Theresa to walk in first. He closed the door and was suddenly assaulted by the complete deprivation of light. His eyes felt as if they were bugging out of his skull.

"Ethan?" he heard Theresa whisper from the other side of the room .

Ethan moved his hand along the wall to his left in search of the switch that would take them out of the darkness. Finally, he found it and the lights overhead turned on with a light buzzing sound.

Theresa turned to look at the mirror, or window depending on how one looked at it. Whitney was sitting at the table with Fox and he looked worried about something. Theresa leaned closer to the glass in attempting to hear what they were saying. Ethan noticed and pressed the necessary buttons and flicked the few switches that would enable them to eavesdrop.

"You can't lie to me, Fox," Whitney said. "You never could."

Fox shrugged and turned to look down at the floor.

"Remember when you'd tell me that everything between you and Theresa was peachy? I always knew when you were lying. I just never said anything. I let you believe I believed you."

He turned up to her, a curious expression on his face.

"We were happy," he said slowly. "At times," he clarified. A beat. "I wasn't always lying."

Whitney nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "And when you did, I knew it."

They were both silent for a long time and Theresa took the opportunity to sit down. Ethan took the seat from across the room and dragged it over to sit next to her. Suddenly, it occurred to him that he hadn't pressed the button to record what Whitney was saying, so he pressed the button and watched a tape begin to roll. Thankfully, she hadn't said anything else incriminating on her part.

"Fox…," Whitney said slowly, reaching across the silver table to grab his good hand. "Please. Just… remember. Remember how it used to be, just us."

Ethan turned to Theresa and noticed that she had suddenly become very interested in the buttons in front of her.

"Please," Whitney begged. "All you have to do… is… admit your feelings."

Fox cleared his throat and Whitney let his hand go before she leaned back into her own chair.

"Just admit your feelings, Fox. Admit that you love me. That you want to be with me. Break off the recommitment to Theresa. Just admit it… and I'll drop the charges."

Theresa pulled in a sharp breath through her nose and she was very clearly angry. Ethan reached over and patted her upper arm to ensure that she remained calm. Well, at least calm enough that she didn't storm into the adjoining room and rip Whitney's hair out.

Fox was silent and he was still staring at the floor, desperately trying to avoid Whitney's eyes. Ethan couldn't be sure if he was overcome with the anger that Theresa was obviously experiencing, or if it was because he felt guilty for what he had done and Whitney was choosing to handle what he'd done.

As Ethan stared at Fox's face, he was sure it was the latter. Fox felt as if he'd done the worst thing imaginable to Whitney. He truly felt that he'd raped her brutally and deserved any and all punishment for what he'd done. But as Whitney had told him, it wasn't true. Still, Fox wouldn't believe it. And Ethan was beginning to question just why that was. Even after Whitney had told him that he didn't do what she had accused, he continued to think he had.

"Fox," Whitney began again. "Just listen to me, okay?"

After several long seconds, Fox finally turned back up to look at her.

"You love Theresa," she stated simply.

Fox nodded quietly.

Out of the corner of Ethan's eye, he saw Theresa's head go down.

"I know you love her," Whitney continued. "I know you do." She let that hang in the air for several more long seconds. "But… she's never loved you the way you should be loved, Fox. The way you deserve to be loved."

His head went back down and so did Theresa's. Because they both knew it was true and because they could do nothing to change that very real fact.

Fox's bad hand went up, his sleeve taking on the appearance of an elephant foot, as he waved it in the air. "It—it doesn't matter, okay? I love Theresa and that's it. We're married."

Whitney could only look at him with a pitiful stare. She didn't say anything and Ethan knew the look she was giving Fox well. It was the same look he knew came to his own face when he spoke to Theresa about her marriage, or whatever it was.

Fox sniffed and he used his good hand to wipe one of his eyes. "It doesn't matter, though," he said, his voice very shaky. "Because of what I did… to you," he said, nodding towards Whitney on the other end of the table, "it doesn't matter anymore. Ethan said ten years. If I'm lucky…"

Ethan didn't turn but he heard the unmistakable sounds of Theresa crying next to him. It was a sound he was far too familiar with, and he desperately wished he hadn't been. It was a sound that pierced his heart and sent waves of anguish throughout his entire being. Worse than the sound of any innocent child in pain, to him, it was the sound of Theresa in pain.

"Fox, listen to me," Whitney said quickly as she thrust her metal chair back, screeching against the cement floor, rushing over him and kneeling at his side. "Just admit it. Admit that you love me. I know you. When you admit it, admit that you're in love with me, when you finally let Theresa go, I'll drop the charges. I'll drop them and then you and I… we can be… we can pick up where we left off."

Fox's head snapped up quickly. "Where we left off? Where we left off, Whit, was after I raped you and you were catatonic on the couch. You didn't move for days. That's what you want to go back to?"

Whitney shook her head. "I'm not talking about that, Fox. I'm talking about you. You took care of me. You held me. And I… I told you I loved you." She let that hang in the air as she stood up straight. "I meant it."

Fox said nothing and Theresa was visibly angrier than she had been before.

Whitney went back around the table to take her seat. She began speaking slowly. "Fox… do you remember that night… in the library?"

It looked as if something had gone through Fox somehow. He looked rigid, almost as if Whitney's words hurt him.

"Whitney…," he began, his voice cracking, "if there was anything I could do to… to take away what I did to you…"

Whitney shook her head. "Fox, stop. That night in the library… the way you kissed me, the way you held me… I'd been dreaming of that years, Fox."

"But I—"

"No, Fox," Whitney interrupted him. "You knew it was me. In the beginning, you knew it was me. And I wanted you… it was like a dream come true for me."

They were both silent.

"That night in the library… it felt right. Don't you see that? You felt something, I know you did." Fox didn't respond. "It was always so easy with us, Fox. Always. We were friends, we could tell each other anything. You were always there for me. It could like that again. It could be better. I can give you what she can't."

"She loves me," Fox said solidly.

Whitney nodded and picked at her nails for a second. "She does. In her way." And then she continued, looking back up to Fox. "But she loves Ethan. She's loved him for years, Fox. She loves him more than she could _ever_ love you. And she will always love him more. There's nothing you can do to change that."

Ethan suddenly felt uncomfortable watching their exchange through the mirror. Whitney was right in everything she said, and both he and Theresa knew it. Theresa pretended to become fascinated by the buttons and switches in front of her, reading their labels and moving a few. But she'd heard everything and she knew it without having to hear it. Perhaps she was just trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Fox, I know what she said. I know that you're recommitting to her. I know that she claims she'll give up Ethan…" Fox looked up to her, his eyes questioning. "But… you and I both know that it'll never happen. Ever. No matter what, Fox, they'll never be over. They'll find their way back to each other. That's what happens when it's real, Fox. When it's true love like that… it never dies."

Ethan couldn't help himself and he looked over at Theresa. She glanced at him and their eyes locked. Once again, Whitney was correct. In all the years that they'd loved each other, they'd always managed to find their way back to each other. Marriages and lies and deception couldn't keep them apart. And as Whitney said, their love, true and deep, was real and it would never die.

Fox breathed a hard sigh, a pained sigh.

"You love me?" he asked into the gray room.

Whitney swallowed and nodded quickly. "Yes… I do."

Fox exhaled a hard breath again, nodding. "You say that," he accused.

"No, Fox," Whitney protested. "I do. I love you. I've been in love with you for years."

"Then why," he began, nodding in false understanding, "why didn't you tell me about Ethan and Theresa sneaking around behind my back?"

Whitney's eyes widened and she flinched backward as if she'd been physically struck. She blinked quickly as if she had a hard time processing what Fox had just thrown at her.

"But you… you… _knew_, Fox," she said with a furrowed brow.

He shook his head slowly. "No, I didn't." He paused and licked his lips quickly as he sat up taller. "Not for certain."

"Yes," Whitney said quickly, shaking her head in protest, "you did. You set them up at Dimension, Fox. You knew what would happen."

It was the first that Ethan had heard of it and he turned to the side to look at Theresa. She hadn't told him that Fox had planned it all. He wasn't sure how he should feel about the admission, but he was suddenly overcome with anger. He felt manipulated and toyed with.

"You knew about that?" Ethan whispered across the small space between them.

Theresa looked up to him with an apologetic grimace. "He told me a few days ago."

Ethan couldn't help but feel somewhat betrayed that Theresa knew and hadn't told him. Fox, the one that had been playing the victim, not only had been in on everything the entire time, but he basically set it up. It made a nauseating acid rise in the back of his throat. He swallowed quickly and shook off the sour taste.

"You claim you love me," Fox continued, interrupting Ethan's angry musing. "And you didn't tell me." Whitney was about to cut in to defend herself when Fox held up a hand to stop her. "Yes, I set up their lunch date. So what?" He shrugged passively. "You covered for her that night, Whit. You knew what was going on and you didn't tell me. If you were my friend, if you loved me at all… you would have told me."

"I didn't want to hurt you," she said slowly, her voice clearly dripping on the last few syllables before tears broke through.

Fox threw his head back in a surprising laugh. Given the circumstances, it was greatly disturbing.

"You didn't…?" he repeated, chuckling. He slapped his knee with his good hand. "That's golden, Whit."

Ethan immediately recognized the part of his brother that he hated most. It was Fox's defensive mechanism. Whenever he felt vulnerable, he attacked other people. Just as when they were young, Fox would always point out what he considered Ethan's flaws and just what his older brother had done wrong when he felt cornered or on the brink of being punished.

"So you figured," Fox continued, the mocking laugh still in his voice, "that by lying to me, by helping my wife have an affair, you were being a good friend to me? You were keeping me from getting hurt by helping her?" He laughed, a pained and scary laugh. "If that's how you prove you love someone, Whit…"

Ethan wasn't close enough to see, but he could tell that Whitney's eyes looked somewhat more glassy and if he had to guess, he would have said that she was definitely holding back tears.

Finally, after what was several minutes of painful silence, Whitney nodded slowly. She had been trying to keep herself from crying, no doubt. She looked weak, as if she had just allowed all her energy to be sucked straight through her.

"Okay, Fox," she said slowly. "I tried."

She got up from the silver table and walked over to the door. She stood in front of it, her forehead resting just under the small window. It looked as if she were mentally warring with herself, but it was hard to tell which side was winning the silent battle.

Fox made no move as he stared after her. Ethan noticed that he was far more like the old Fox. He seemed cold, hardened, uncaring. But those that knew him best, like Ethan, knew that it was simply a defense mechanism and instead of really feeling the way he looked, Fox was breaking inside.

Whitney turned around to face Fox again, tears streaking down her face.

"I'm only going to ask you one more thing, Fox. Just one… and then I'll leave." She sniffed and her entire body shook when she swallowed.

The air was thick and tense as Ethan, Theresa, and Fox all waited for Whitney's question.

"Do you… love me?"

Theresa's eyes immediately went to Fox and Ethan watched her face. He watched for signs of jealousy, rage, anger, hatred. But instead, he only found what appeared to be anxiety. Her eyes bounced from Whitney and back to Fox.

Ethan finally looked away from Theresa and up to Fox. He hadn't moved. He hadn't appeared to have heard anything. He sat there, the same defensive smile on his face, his hands flat against the silver table.

Whitney's eyes never left Fox's face, and Fox never moved. He never spoke, he never did a thing to answer Whitney's question. Yet, with his silence, he did.

Whitney, shamed and crying more than before, nodded sadly and walked out of the gray room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

Ethan stared at Fox for a second longer and desperately tried to see a man worth saving. While they had been sent off to boarding school rather young, it seemed that Julian's influence had certainly rubbed off well on Fox. Ethan suddenly bolted out of his chair and out of the small observation rom.

"Ethan?" he heard Theresa call after him as he ran out and into the hallway.

Whitney was walking very quickly to what looked like the women's restroom, her face in her hands.

"Whitney! Whitney, wait!" Ethan yelled after her. A few uniformed policemen turned to look at him as they passed, but said nothing.

Whitney stopped, her hands still covering her face. As Ethan ran towards her, he noticed that her back was quivering and he felt a pang of sympathy for her. Granted, with the knowledge of what she'd done to get what she wanted, he knew he shouldn't feel sorry for her. Yet, he also knew that if he were in the same position with Theresa, he couldn't say what lengths he wouldn't go to for her.

Finally, when Ethan caught up to the shaking and crying woman, he put his hand on her shoulder and she slowly turned towards him. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes puffy and wet.

"Ethan?" she said slowly, licking her lips profusely and her chest taking in shaky breaths.

Ethan stared at the broken woman and knew that he saw something of himself in her. It was the same broken and shattered feeling he got every time he and Theresa tried to deny their feelings for one another. Every time he lied to her, or she to him, it felt as if something died inside of him. It was the kind of pain he would never wish on anyone.

"Here," he said, gesturing to a small bench next to the wall, "let's sit."

Whitney nodded and walked to him, allowing him to lead her over to the bench.

They sat next to each other in silence; Whitney looked straight ahead at the opposite wall and Ethan looked at her. She was still crying, though the tears were falling less frequently, and her chest was still rising and fall in quick succession.

"Whit," Ethan began, his hand reaching over to push a block of curly hair over her shoulder. "Whit, I know that was hard for you."

She said nothing, didn't move, and only allowed a few more tears to slide down her face. A few had gathered at the base of her chin and a ball of tears hung, moving slightly, until finally, a last tear made the weight too much and it slid further down her throat.

Whitney breathed deep, in and out. She swallowed over and over, the lump in her throat hard to pass. It looked as if she was about to speak, but she couldn't seem to get the words out. Every time she opened her mouth, her chest moved a little higher and she licked her top lip when she realized she couldn't speak.

Ethan watched her, his heart breaking for her. In a way, he understood her pain. He knew what it was like to be without the one he loved more than his own life. And he was sure that Whitney felt similarly for Fox.

"He… he doesn't—doesn't love me… Ethan," Whitney whispered, her eyes never leaving the wall across the hall.

Ethan exhaled and shifted gears from business-minded lawyer to concerned friend. Despite the differences he'd had with Whitney regarding his relationship for Theresa, they had been friends once before. In the more recent years after Fox and Theresa got married, when he no longer socialized with neither Theresa or Fox, or their circle, he hadn't spent any time with Whitney. But that didn't change the fact that they were once friends. Besides, she was Theresa's best friend. And in loving Theresa, he found that he also cared for Whitney as a friend as well.

"He does," Ethan said, putting his hand on Whitney's back in comfort. "Trust me, he does."

Whitney shook her head and another ball of tears shook off her chin. It landed on Ethan's tie and he did his best not to appear disgusted in any way.

"No," she said, her voice clearing of any lumps. She was certain in the way she spoke. "He doesn't. I asked him, point blank. And he…" She shook her head as another wave of tears began falling from her eyes.

"Whit," Ethan said softly. "Listen to me. I know my brother. And I know that he can be an ass." Whitney let out a breathy laugh as she concurred. "But he's only an ass when he's afraid of getting hurt."

"But I would never hurt him, Ethan! I love him!"

Ethan nodded quickly. "I know, I know. But he doesn't."

It should have comforted her, but it didn't. She couldn't believe that after all the times she'd told Fox that she wouldn't hurt him, that she only cared for him and his happiness, that he would still think her capable of hurting him. It would be like stabbing her own heart.

"Think about it, Whit. Think about how we were raised. Cranes… Cranes don't love, Whit. Cranes don't care for other people. Cranes don't think about anyone but themselves."

"But he loves Theresa," she rebutted quickly. The way she said it was filled with what sounded like anger, some kind of rage, as if the very idea offended her. And perhaps it did.

Ethan exhaled sharply. "I fell in love with her when I was a Crane, too, Whit. She breaks through all of that." A dreamy haze came over his eyes as he remembered the early days of his and Theresa's relationship.

Whitney turned to him suddenly, her eyes flashing with anger. "So you're telling me that it's Theresa? That—that, what? She's better than me? That she deserves the love of a Crane more than I do?"

"No, no," Ethan said quickly, shaking his head and putting his hand on her shoulder. "That's not what I'm saying. But I can understand how she got through to him. I know what it's like to think like a Crane and find yourself unable to resist her."

Whitney said nothing, the anger in her eyes melting minutely.

"But it wasn't overnight, Whit. Theresa didn't proclaim her love to me one day and I was suddenly able to admit that I loved her. It doesn't work like that for Cranes. I knew I loved her, but I couldn't admit it to myself. Alistair and Julian taught us that love is a weakness, for the weak-minded. For those that _needed_ other people. Even though Fox has changed a lot… he still has that inside of him."

"But you… you didn't see him, Ethan. His eyes…" A few more tears fell onto her wet cheeks.

Ethan paused and battled with himself on whether or not he should tell her. "I did see," he finally said.

Whitney turned up to him quickly. She searched his face as if she were searching for the answer to her unspoken question. She thought back to the room and knew that no one had been in the room but her and Fox. And then she realized that there was a mirror on the right wall of the room.

"The mirror," she whispered, nodding. Ethan nodded without saying anything.

They sat there in silence for a long time, both just staring at the opposite wall. A few officers passed and looked over at Whitney a few times, probably about to ask if Ethan had upset her in any way. Ethan knew what they were probably thinking, but he excused it as nothing more than the innate chivalrousness that seemed to exist in all policemen.

"So what do you propose I do?" Whitney asked suddenly.

Ethan wiggled back until his was sitting flush against the bench. He shrugged and let out a few consecutive deep breaths while he thought about what advice to give her.

"You know what you need to do, Whit."

She suddenly turned to him and at the look on his face, she immediately began shaking her head from left to right quite quickly as if she would be able to convince him with her gesture that he was completely mistaken.

"No. I can't."

"Whitney," Ethan said slowly, scolding her. "Be reasonable."

Whitney turned back to look at the wall indignantly. It looked as if she'd grown colder and she sat up straighter and folded her arms across her chest. A hand lifted quickly to wipe her eyes and she sniffed.

"I said I can't."

Ethan huffed. "You have to. It's too late." When she didn't speak or move in return, Ethan continued. "I got you on tape yesterday. What you told him… It's over, Whit."

Whitney's rigid posture softened and she slumped back against the bench, weakened by Ethan's words. But she didn't say anything. She probably couldn't say anything. If she was thinking properly, she had to have known that the jig was up. She had no where else to go.

"Just let it go…" Ethan said, pressing her. "Drop the charges… Before you embarrass yourself."

Whitney turned to him sharply, her reaction catching him off guard and he almost fell off the small bench. "Embarrass myself?" she asked, the same demeaning and angry tone that she'd given him the afternoon when she explicitly told him to stay away from Theresa. "Just how would I embarrass myself, Ethan? I'd be doing you a favor. If Fox doesn't choose me, he stays in here and you get Theresa. If he does, you still get Theresa and I'll be with Fox."

Ethan chuckled under his breath. "You really are her best friend."

Her eyes tightened as she crossed her arms tighter across her chest. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ethan looked up to her and the smile immediately fell from his face. Her eyes were flashing with a burning anger.

"Whit," he began, lost at where to start. "Just… haven't you learned anything from Theresa? The schemes, the lies… they don't work, Whitney. All they do is cause problems."

"They worked for her," she said through tight lips.

Ethan shook his head. "No, they didn't."

"You love her." Whitney said it as if it was an accusation of some kind.

"Yeah," Ethan replied quickly, barely thinking about what he was saying because it was pure instinct where Theresa was concerned. "I do. But not because of the lies and the schemes. I fell in love with who she is, Whit. The way she laughs, the way she touches me. Her heart, her soul. Not because she wore disguises or lied about having a boyfriend."

Whitney looked away, ashamed.

"It's a lie, Whit. You know, I know it, Theresa knows it. Are you really prepared to ruin his life just because he doesn't want to be with you? Can you live with that?"

Silence lingered between them and Ethan could see that the anger in Whitney's eyes had melted. Shame and sadness replaced the rage and she sat crying, unmoving.

"Drop the charges, Whit. Let Fox make his own decisions. He knows how you feel now… If he wants to be with you, let him make that choice. Don't force him into something." After a long moment, he added, "Trust me, I know what it feels like. I was forced into marrying Gwen and look at the mess it's caused years later."

Whitney cried harder, her shoulders beginning to shake along with the rest of her body. She tried to hide her face with her hand, but it did little to muffle the sobbing and sniffing sounds.

Ethan felt helpless sitting next to her. He wasn't sure if he should hug her, hold her hand, say something encouraging, or sit there looking as useless as he felt in that moment. As the minutes passed, Whitney's crying gradually grew lighter and she wasn't shaking as much.

"Okay," she said simply.

Ethan stared at her, elated. He couldn't believe if he'd actually heard her correctly. Had she really just agreed to drop the charges against Fox? Could it have really been that simple?

"What?" Ethan asked, unsure if he'd really heard what he thought he heard.

"I said okay," Whitney repeated. "I'll drop the charges."

Unable to control himself, Ethan fell on Whitney and pulled her into a hug. He hugged her in thanks, he hugged her in happiness, he hugged her in comfort. He whispered his thanks as he held her and finally, after it seemed that they both grew uncomfortable, Whitney pulled back.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. Ethan said nothing and waited for her question. "Why… why did you take Fox's case?"

"Because Theresa asked me to," he answered quite simply and very quickly.

Whitney shook her head. "No, I mean, why did you take his case? Why help him? Why did you want me to drop the charges?" She stared at him, searching his face for answers. "Like I said, if he stayed in here, you could have had Theresa."

Ethan sat back against the bench, looking somewhat deflated and exhausted. Perhaps he was. But, it was also probably because Whitney's questions had been in the back of his own mind and he was just now owning up to that fact.

"Because I love her." His voice was airy, as if speaking of some adored deity.

Whitney stared at him, perplexed. "I don't…. understand."

Ethan smiled in spite of himself. He had explained the same thing to Fox the day before.

"I want to be with her," he admitted slowly. "I _need_ to be with her. But… I want it to be her choice. I want her to be with me because she chooses it. Not because her husband is locked up and she's forced to choose me."

Whitney stared at him, more confusion screwing up her features.

"I know she loves me," he continued. "I know. I know she loved me the day she married Fox and every single day since. But she chose him. And I…. just have to accept that." Before Whitney could ask another question, he added, "Because I love her, I'm giving her the ability to choose. Because I love her, I don't want to steal her away from him. She deserves better than that."

Ethan's face had taken on a reverent hazy stare, as if he'd been looking into the face of a divine creature. Whitney stared at him, some kind of awe on her face. She searched his face, almost as if she were waiting for him to crack a smile and admit that everything he'd said, every beautiful sentiment, was a lie. She couldn't believe that he could be so sincere, so true, so real.

"It's amazing," Whitney whispered. Ethan opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but she continued. "The way you love her. It's like… I can't even explain it."

And the truth was that Ethan couldn't either. He could have used the nicest words, the softest words, the kindest words, the most romantic words, and he would never be able to fully express just how much loved Theresa, or why. It just was. It was so all-consuming that he felt that he would die with and without it.

"Neither can I," he admitted after a minute.

* * *

The entire day had passed and the sun was setting just outside the police station. It seemed that millions of papers had to be filed, signatures were needed, phone calls had to be made, and with the way that the Harmony PD was used to working, it took a very long time.

Just after Whitney had agreed to drop the charges against Fox, Ethan escorted her to her car and told her that she had to go see Dylan right away to get the ball rolling. In the two days that he had overtaken the case for his brother, Ethan felt like he had aged several hundred years. And even though the end result was what he wanted, he couldn't seem to find any happiness within himself.

Theresa was sitting next to him with her head on his shoulder, sleeping lightly. Every few minutes, as if waiting for it all to come to an end even in her sleep, she would bolt awake and yawn, looking around and asking if everything had been finished yet. Ethan had to give her the unfortunate news every time and he too was finding it hard to stay awake.

The thin cup of terrible police coffee in his hand tipped and spilled the remains onto his shoe with a splash. Ethan's eyes snapped open and he looked down with a curse. Luckily, his pants were black and he didn't have to worry about a serious stain. He crushed the cup and threw it to the floor a few feet off. Careful not to wake Theresa, he moved his hand up to his face slowly and rubbed his eyes awake.

The revolving door hummed as it turned and Ethan looked up to see if it was perhaps the person he had been hoping for. It was.

Dylan marched into the station, the same pompous and arrogant attitude written all over his face. When his eyes met Ethan's across the room, he seemed to shrink back slightly before he stood up even straighter to pretend that he hadn't just been outwitted.

Ethan turned to the woman sleeping on his shoulder and he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding across her skin slowly. It was, he knew, the last moment he would probably have and he needed to take it for what it was worth. There were not going to be any tears, there wouldn't be time for sloppy goodbyes and too-tight hugs; the only moment they would get was a silent and half-asleep gesture in the middle of a dark and lazy police station.

Carefully, Ethan rocked to the side to allow Theresa to fall back against the chair. Just before her head fell against the wall behind her, her eyes opened and locked on Ethan's before her. She stared at him, the birth of a small smile beginning on her lips. But she was able to read Ethan's eyes and she knew that it wasn't the moment to say anything. And before his resolve could break and allow his mind to change, he stood up and turned to face Dylan who had watched the silent exchange.

Dylan probably would have smirked in his usual slimy way if Ethan hadn't stolen his little moment of glory. Yes, he'd been right about Theresa, but it didn't matter anymore. In a few minutes, Fox was going to be released and then he and Theresa would really be just friends for the rest of their lives.

The door hummed again and pushing through it, with her head held down, was Whitney. Immediately Ethan felt Theresa stand next to him, a harshly whispered curse falling from her mouth.

Ethan turned and grabbed Theresa's arms to prevent her from charging forward and most likely killing Whitney. She urged through his restraint with what little strength she had.

"Theresa, stop," Ethan said, his hands tightening on her shoulders. "Stop."

She fought him, her arms trying desperately to push him away. Her stare didn't break from Whitney and she looked angrier than Ethan had seen her in a really long time.

Just when Ethan was sure that he'd gotten Theresa under control, she ducked under his arm and tried to run towards the woman standing next to the revolving doors. Ethan's grabbed her again, wrapping his arms around her upper body to prevent her from going anywhere.

"No," he said, stepping in front her. "No. Not now, okay? It's not the time."

She turned up to him, the angry eyes melting as soon as they locked with his. She looked back over to Whitney quickly before nodding at Ethan. Ethan let her go hesitantly, his hands still up in case she decided to make a run for it and pull all of Whitney's hair out. Instead, Theresa walked back and took her seat, her eyes never leaving Whitney.

Ethan turned and saw that Whitney was cowering near the door, her arms holding her purse up against her chest. She looked defeated, broken. And she also looked ashamed, as if it hurt her just to look at Theresa. And Ethan being on Theresa's side in everything, felt justification in the look on Whitney's face. He knew that what she'd done somehow made sense in her own twisted sense of reality, but it was still wrong. She was playing with a man's freedom for her own selfish needs. Needless to say, he was happy that it was all coming to an end.

Ethan sat back down next to Theresa. He tried to pull her back into his arms like she had been, but her posture was rigid, as if she'd been strung through with electricity that had set all her muscles frozen. He worked her shoulders, rubbing and trying to get her relax. It was no use. She scowled next to him, her mouth turning up at the corner and she stared in front of her in ways he'd only seen her look at Gwen.

"Theresa?"

Everything seemed to happen at once. Ethan turned, Theresa jumped up and her hand sliced through the air, a loud sound cracked, a sharp gasp, a scream.

With barely enough time to process what had just happened, Ethan was standing, his hands around Theresa's shoulders to keep her from jumping on Whitney again. She was fighting him, pushing against his firm hold, but he wrapped his arms around hers and whispered in her ears.

"How dare you!" Theresa screamed. She was jumping, twisting in Ethan's arms, stomping on his feet accidentally. "You—you come here! And you! Let me go, Ethan!"

"Theresa, stop!" he tried, pulling her more firmly against him. "Calm down, it's okay. Theresa!" She wasn't listening, still struggling to get free.

Whitney was holding her darkening cheek with one hand, her face turned away as if she were too embarrassed to look at the two people in front of her.

"How dare you ever call yourself my friend! You two-timing bitch!"

"Theresa, stop!" Ethan said, holding her with even stronger arms. "You don't mean it!"

"Yes, yes I do! She's nothing to me! Nothing! You lied, you manipulated all of us!" she screamed, still flailing in Ethan's arms.

"It's okay, Ethan," Whitney whispered as she turned to face them.

"Yeah, because it's true!"

Ethan didn't respond and pulled her tighter.

Whitney looked around, probably searching for an escape. She turned back to Theresa with obvious tears in her eyes. Her hand moved forward as if to grab Theresa's, but she quickly thought better of it and pulled back.

"I just wanted to say—"

"Don't you dare!" Theresa said, starting her dying struggle again. "Don't you dare apologize for what you've done! What you almost did to ruin Fox's life!"

Whitney nodded and took a step back, her head down in shame. "I _am_ sorry, Theresa. Really… I, um… And Fox, I never meant to hurt him. I just thought…"

Theresa chuckled. "That he'd leave me to be with you if you forced him to go to jail for the rest of his prime?"

Whitney stared at her shoes, letting what Theresa had said sink in farther. "I have no excuse," she whispered, turning up. "But I always thought of you like my sister, Theresa. I don't want to lose that." A heavy tear slid down her cheek quickly and spilled into the bed of her jaw without a trace.

Theresa finally stilled in Ethan's arms and he finally was able to release some of the tension around her. She stepped forward, staring straight into Whitney's face. They held a long stare, Theresa a few inches shorter than Whitney.

"You," Theresa said, taking the last step toward Whitney, "are nothing to me. Nothing."

Whitney closed her eyes and almost as if her eyes had imploded, tears spilled down her face in a stream on both cheeks. She didn't open her eyes again as she silently moved past Theresa and walked out of the police station.

Ethan stared after Whitney and watched as she ran out into the parking lot. He turned back to Theresa still standing in front of him. She was breathing hard and her fists were balled at her sides. He walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder, allowing her the comfort of knowing that he was still there with her.

"Theresa?"

But she said nothing in return. Several minutes went by and her breathing finally slowed. She turned around slowly, her eyes in a frozen state of shock. Ethan searched her face for some tell of what she was thinking, but the fear he saw in her eyes was scaring him as well.

"Oh god…," she whispered slowly. "Ethan… She has to sign the papers!"

They both turned to the doors, ready to run when Dylan turned from the front desk and waved a few forms in the air.

"Already done, _Mrs. Crane_."

Theresa narrowed her eyes at him. The way he said her last name filled her with disgust. It was as if he were trying to imply something about her personal life with a simple word and it infuriated her.

"Excuse me?" she said, her breathing rate rising again.

He waved the forms again with a defeated smile as he looked at Ethan. "You win, Ethan Crane. Signed the papers." He pointed over his shoulder. "They're being filed now. Foxy got his Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card."

Ethan stepped around Theresa as if to protect her from an incoming bullet. And perhaps subconsciously, he was shielding her from anything that might disappoint her enough to feel like a shot taken.

"That's it?" Ethan asked, his eyebrow raised. "Just like that?"

Dylan shrugged and jiggled his Rolex around his wrist. "Just like that." He snapped his fingers and Ethan stared at his pinched hand, almost waiting for something magical to happen. Dylan walked over to Ethan and bent his head low so that only they would hear what was being said. "Listen… about what I told you in my office… That's just, uh, between you and me, right?"

Ethan pulled Theresa to his side and walked over to the front desk without answering Dylan's question. He wasn't going to promise anything because he was sure that once he was out of the police station, out of harmony and out of the mess created by years of bad choices, he would probably be sending a letter to the governor to inform people in power that Dylan Thomas was not a good choice for DA.

Hobbs was at the front desk, a tiny bit of leftover powdered donut sitting on a napkin next to him. His mustache still contained remnants of sugar and sprinkles had fallen onto his blue uniform. He looked up at Ethan and Theresa with the same blank expression he'd given them by the coffee before he smiled.

"Client's getting out, huh?" he said, looking at Ethan. "Must have some strings on that puppet of yours."

Ethan didn't say anything and signed where Hobbs instructed, pulling Theresa close to his side after he put the pen down. Neither said anything about the fact that they were touching, or that it was sure to come to a close—forever. While Theresa still didn't know of Ethan's plans to flee the town, there was a definite end coming and she could feel it.

"K," Hobbs said, moving a few pages off a clipboard and sticking them into a manila folder. "We'll get him changed and bring him in out in a jiff."

Theresa smiled at the police officer, grateful for his pleasant mood. But her fingers tightened on Ethan's back. The moment was their absolute last and they both knew. Ethan didn't want any tears or sloppy goodbyes, he just wanted to remember her, what it was like to hold her, to smell her, to be near her. So he pulled her around to his front to look at her and she just stared up into his blue eyes. Silently, surrounded by the buzzing of phones and the tapping of cheap coffee pots, their hearts said everything they ever needed to.

Theresa's eyes brimmed with tears that had gone uncried for years and years. They were tears she'd held for her mistakes, for her pain, for the pain she'd constantly cause. They were tears that she would never be able to fully release because the pain they stemmed from would never be over. Ethan's hand moved up to hold her face and she quickly caught it in both of hers. She turned his palm up and laid a kiss in the center, holding her lips against his skin for a long time.

"Theresa?" a familiar and different voice said a few feet away.

Theresa quickly ripped her lips away from Ethan's hand and turned around to look behind her. Fox was looking around the police station, his eyes scanning from one side over to the other, looking for his wife. His regular clothes were back and the color in his face seemed to be deeper as if the circumstances allowed more blood to flow throughout his body.

"Over here," she said, gesturing so he would see her.

Flanked by two police officers, Fox hobbled without the assistance of his cane in Theresa's direction. Slowly, she left Ethan's side and walked to her husband, wrapping him in a strong embrace when they finally met.

Ethan watched, a silent release pulsing from his heart. Seeing the woman he loved more than his own life in the arms of another man was what he needed to see to finalize what he knew—he was leaving.

It was hard for Ethan to watch as Fox wrapped his arms around Theresa's body as if he would crush her. He was so much bigger than she was and Ethan felt a jolt of a protective instinct surge through him. He wanted to run over and rip them apart, but he forced himself to watch because he was sure the pain would only make everything that followed much easier.

Fox and Theresa were holding each other, probably crying, and Ethan could tell that they were whispering in each other's ears. There was a piece of him that soared in his knowledge that he had a kind of confidence in Theresa's love that Fox would never have. But it didn't matter. Because in the end, Fox had Theresa and Ethan was going to move on alone.

And with that thought in mind, he walked over to where he and Theresa had been seated only minutes before and retrieved his coat and his briefcase. Without putting his coat on, he walked over to the revolving doors and was just about to head out to his car when Fox called his name. Ethan silently cursed under his breath with a quick shake of his head before he turned around.

Fox had broken away from Theresa, taking her hand instead and walked over to Ethan. Theresa could only look at Fox's hand in her own as she stood in front of Ethan.

"You're not leaving?" Fox said, sounding too disappointed to be sincere.

Ethan nodded, passing his coat and briefcase over to the opposite hand. "Yeah, I have some things to take care of."

Theresa's eyes snapped up to his face as soon as he said that, probably wondering just what he was talking about.

"No, c'mon," Fox protested like an overgrown child. "You have to come celebrate with us." Ethan had begun shaking his head when Fox cut him off. "You won this for me, big bro. C'mon. Let me make you dinner." He put his hand to his chest in a sincere gesture. "It's the least I can do for what you did for me." He looked down to Theresa and draped his arm around her. "Us," he corrected. "It's the least I can do for what you did for us."

Ethan looked down at Theresa and wanted her know that Fox had been wrong on both counts. He didn't do anything for Fox, and he certainly hadn't done anything for Fox and his wife. It had all been in the name of Theresa and his love for her, nothing and no one more.

Ethan shook his head. "Fox, really. I have some arrangements to make and I—"

"Now?" Fox asked, his eyebrows going up in his typical playful way. "You don't have—what—two hours to sit down and eat, have a glass of wine?" He leaned his head in, searching Ethan's face for a breaking point. "Your arrangements can't be that serious, can they?"

Ethan stared down at Theresa, a part of him wanting to run toward her, another part of him wanting to run away and rip off the band aid as it were. As many times as he'd told himself that it would be the last time he'd see her, hold her, kiss her, it still hadn't been. With a deep breath he finally nodded and Fox clapped a happy hand against his back.

"Perfect!" Fox exclaimed, holding Theresa firmly against him. "Filet minions or lobster ravioli?" Ethan was about to open his mouth and try to give some other excuse about not being able to dine with Fox and Theresa when Fox cut him off and continued. "Know what? How's both? This is a celebration! Let's live a little, huh? "

Fox stepped away and used Theresa as a light crutch as he hobbled up to the front desk. Ethan stood back and watched as Fox went up to the front desk and was given back the personal items that had been with him the day he'd been arrested. Fox enthusiastically pushed his wedding ring onto the forth finger of his left hand and stuffed his wallet into his back pocket.

Fox made small talk with the Hobbs, suggesting that the jumpsuits should be changed to a different color and perhaps even a different, smoother fabric. Theresa looked behind Fox and made eye contact with Ethan and it looked as if she was silently apologizing. And just as Fox turned around from signing forms, he couldn't be sure, but Ethan thought he saw Theresa mouth 'I love you' over to him.

"Please," Fox said, stretching the word out, "can we please get out of here?" Fox exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Theresa.

Theresa laughed lightly and she supported Fox as best she could, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest.

"I'm sorry, I would have brought your cane if I knew you were getting out today," she said, helping him towards the revolving doors.

Fox chuckled as they slowly walked along. "It's okay. I'd rather leave her today without my cane than tomorrow with it."

Ethan stood back and allowed them to walk through the doors first, watching them. As the revolving doors spun and Theresa reconnected with Fox, once again taking her position to support him, she looked behind her at Ethan as he pushed the door forward and stepped outside. They all walked down the stairs to his Lexus, Ethan keeping a few feet between himself and the couple walking ahead of him. He could only stare at Theresa's hand hanging loosely from her husband's.

* * *

Ethan watched the wine swirl in the crystal and he breathed in the heady scent of grapes and blackberries. The purple liquid moved around the glass in a perfect pattern and it pulled him into the center, sucking life straight out of him.

"I swear we're not blood-related," Fox teased. "Not possible."

Ethan looked up from his wineglass at Fox, a confused expression on his face. Fox laughed as he took another swallow of the white wine in his glass.

"Surely, Ethan, you do know that the red is for the steak and the white was for the ravioli?"

Ethan stared at the red in his glass and the white on his plate. He knew what Fox was saying, and he wasn't so uncivilized to not understand, but for some reason, it all seemed to blur into a ball of haze for him.

"I can't believe Father didn't lecture you on wine etiquette." He scoffed to himself. "Then again, being all perfect, he probably thought you didn't need it." He paused, staring into the swirling of the light liquid. "Always perfect, always the best, always ahead. That's our little Ethan." He looked up, a sad smile on his lips. And before either Theresa or Ethan could say anything, Fox lifted his glass high in the air above his head. "To Ethan," he offered, raising his glass a little higher. "For being the best at everything you do… and for helping me."

"Ethan," Theresa whispered across the table, holding her own glass a little higher in a delicate hand.

Ethan looked over at her quickly, searching her face for something. But before he could read into anything, she put the glass to her lips and dipped her head, swallowing and shielding her eyes.

After Fox took his drink, he watched Ethan and silently scolded him for not taking a drink when the toast was for him. Ethan noticed and drank quickly, probably too much for a simple toast.

The three of them sat there in silence for several minutes, looking around awkwardly. Theresa picked up her fork and swirled a piece of ravioli in cream sauce around her plate.

"So…," Fox said, clearing his throat.

Ethan took the last drink of his wine and coughed. "Well, that was great, Fox. Thanks." Ethan made to get up from the table when Fox held up his hand to stop him.

"No, wait," he instructed. "You can't leave yet."

By the sudden severity in Fox's voice, Ethan froze, almost halfway rising from his seat. The awkward silence was back, though more confused on Ethan's part this time around. Theresa stared up at the two men around her, no doubt just as confused as Ethan was.

Unsure of what to do next, Ethan laid his knife and fork at the top of the plate, the way his mother had taught him. He was careful not to make any noise. He glanced up at Theresa and she was making a light screeching sound with the fork prongs against her plate.

"I'm sorry I can't stay longer," Ethan said, folding his linen napkin and putting it on the table, "but I should really get going."

Fox put his hand up quickly. "Wait, Ethan." When it looked as though Ethan was going to say something to excuse himself again, Fox tried again. "You haven't had dessert yet." His features pleaded with Ethan.

Ethan sat back deep in his chair, bringing his hand to his belly, rubbing softly. He exhaled slowly, the air spilling out of his mouth as he tried to free up some space inside his body to accommodate the ravioli, steak and wine he'd eaten.

"Really, Fox… even if I had the room, I can't." Once again, Ethan stood from his chair, ready to push back from the table and leave. "I really do have to—"

"Ethan, sit," Fox said, a cold edge surrounding his voice. "Please," he added when Ethan passed him a panicked look.

Theresa's fork fell against her plate with a clang and Fox and Ethan both look over to her. Fox ran a nervous hand through his hair and scratched.

"Look," he said in a hard breath. "Sorry, alright? I didn't mean to… yell at you. I'm sorry."

Ethan waited, still unsure of where everything was going.

"I'm sorry," Fox apologized again as he ran his good hand through his hair over and over again. "I lied," he admitted slowly. "I didn't just ask you over for dinner." He let that hang in the and both Theresa and Ethan's faces were expressionless, both still processing exactly what was being said. "It wasn't to celebrate or anything."

Theresa cleared her throat and the sound shook out nervously. "Fox, what's going on?" The expressions that flitted across her face were a mixture of confusion, desperation, fear, anger and panic. There was a part of her that couldn't help but focus on the fact that Fox had orchestrated the meeting at Dimension for her and Ethan. She wondered just what else Fox could possibly have planned.

"I want to talk to you about something," Fox said, ignoring Theresa's question and turning to Ethan instead.

Then it was Ethan's turn to be nervous. As it was, he wasn't exactly that happy to be sitting with his brother and the woman they both loved, eating dinner and pretending that everything between the three of them was absolutely perfectly. Because it wasn't. Because it would never be. And because, he was almost certain, he would never be seeing them again anyway.

"I do want to thank you for what you did," Fox continued. "For me, for us." He reached over and took Theresa's hand in his and Ethan's eyes followed. "And I want to apologize… again. I want to say that I'm sorry for ever doubting you."

Ethan held his hand up, trying to get Fox to stop whatever flattering pleasantry was going on; the emotional hurricane was starting to be too much to handle anymore.

"No, please," Fox continued before Ethan could interrupt. "Let me finish." He paused, trying to composer himself. His Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed nervously. "A few days ago, I was certain that you would have done anything and everything to take Theresa away from me. But I learned something, half-bro." Fox turned up, a sincere and clear expression coming over his eyes. "You really are as respectable as everyone says you are." He laughed to himself, turning his head down in what appeared to be embarrassment.

"If I were in your position…" Fox shook his head to himself, envisioning just how differently their situation would have played out if he had been. "I never would have done for you what you did for me, let alone even tried to help in the first place. Ever." He turned to Theresa briefly. "I would have left you in there to rot and taken Theresa for myself."

Theresa turned away, trying to shield herself by letting her hair cast a curtain between her and the two men sitting with her.

"But you didn't," Fox continued. "You did try to help me, and you did. You didn't have to, even if Theresa asked you. And for that, you're the better man."

Ethan couldn't help but be shocked by what Fox was saying. It was real and it was evident in every single word that Fox was saying. Ethan knew that Fox had never been more honest that he was being at that moment.

"Fox, really, I—"

Before Ethan could continue, Fox waved his hand to interrupt. "Just let me get this out."

"So… I want to say this… in front of Theresa…" He turned to her, waiting for her to face him again. When he had her full attention, he finally turned back to Ethan. "I just want to say… thank you. Really…" Fox put his hand over his heart as if he were about to break out into the Star Spangled Banner. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

Ethan sat in his chair, the moment swirling around him in a strange and unfamiliar haze. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on.

"You're welcome," was all that Ethan could manage after the initial shock passed.

Fox nodded, the sincerity still in his face. And then after another long moment, he dropped his head, looking as if he were internally battling with himself.

"So," Fox said, turning up, determined-looking. "There's something else I need to say with you here."

Ethan swallowed nervously, waiting the ire he was sure would come.

"But not to you," Fox said, turning to face Theresa instead. "I need to ask you something," he began, staring at her. "Here, in front of Ethan." When it looked as though Theresa was going to say something in protest, Fox put his hand up and dismissed her the same way he had Ethan.

"What I want to know," Fox said, folding and unfolding his hands before him, "is… can you do it?"

Theresa's eyebrow perked up in question and before she could ask anything, Fox continued.

"Can you really..."

"Fox, stop," Theresa said, her voice getting rough and strained. "Please."

Ethan looked back from Fox and then to Theresa, unsure if he should say something. The only trouble was that he didn't know what was going on just yet.

"No, Theresa," Fox said quickly, "I need to say this."

Whether or not Theresa knew what question was coming, she didn't say. Instead, she sat back in her chair, looking almost like a child had been sent to timeout, and waited for Fox to continue.

"Will you marry me, Theresa?" Fox asked, his eyes never breaking from hers.

"Fox, I—"

"No," he said, cutting her off again. "Will you marry me, knowing that you could have Ethan instead?"

Theresa was frozen and so was Ethan. It was as if someone had imported a giant pink elephant from an exotic planet and placed it on the table to stare at them all. Ethan and Theresa refused to look at each other, both sure that it would have given something away that would have damaged everything.

"Answer me, please," Fox said softly.

The silence that hung between the three of them was different than it was originally. It was full of a severe tension that wrapped around them like a hungry snake. They both felt as if they needed to say something, but were unsure if they could.

"Listen, Fox—" Ethan tried. But he, just like Theresa, was also cut off.

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but this is for Theresa to answer, not you." He stared at her, his eyes pressing into hers as he waited for answer. "Theresa? I want you to look me in the eye, with Ethan here, and tell me the truth. Do you want to marry me? Once and for all, can you two finally say goodbye to whatever it is that you have? Can you give it up to be with me?"

Theresa exhaled shakily. Her tongue moved over her bottom lip several times until she was sure it was red. "Fox," she started slowly, "I—"

"The truth," Fox demanded softly as he took her hand in his again. "I want you to think about it. Just… think. There's no Gwen, no stupid relationship issues keeping you apart right now. I learned the hard way and I'll step aside if that's what you want." He let that hang in the air and the tension just about suffocated them all. "I'll do it for you."

A heavy tear fell from the corner of Theresa's eye and slid down to her jaw. She was shaking slightly as she swallowed repeatedly, trying to keep any further tears inside.

"I made a commitment, Fox," she said, her eyes swimming. Her chin quivered and she didn't look at Ethan once while she answered.

Fox nodded, letting go of her hand. "I know. But you don't have to keep it."

Theresa's eyes flitted from left to right, looking for an escape. Or perhaps she was hoping for someone to give her an answer to Fox's question. She was stuck between to crushing rocks. Only, they weren't rocks; they were the two men that loved her. And both, in very different ways, had the ability to crush her.

"Theresa?" Fox asked again. "The choice is yours. Will you marry me?"

There was a part of Ethan that wanted to reach over and answer for her. But Fox was right—it was Theresa's decision. But he couldn't understand what was taking her so long to answer. She had said that she was going to marry Fox because she promised him, because she had given him her word and because she was tired of hurting him with her selfishness. And despite the fact that Ethan hated it, he understood what she meant.

"I…"

Theresa's voice broke Ethan's internal wandering and questions. He looked up to her, waiting for her to answer. With each breath, he hoped to hear that answer that would finally change their lives and end the triangle that was killing them all.

"Yes, Fox," Theresa whispered. "I will marry you."

It felt like a wave of electricity surged through Ethan's entire body and landed behind both eyes, immediately making them sting. He looked up just in case gravity worked against the tears he didn't want to show.

"Is that your final answer?" Fox asked, a slight smile in his voice.

Theresa's mouth only pulled up at the side the tiniest amount, clearly not sharing his joviality. But that was the only answer she would give. Unlike for Fox, to her, making a choice was not something to celebrate, least of all with Ethan sitting right in front of her, no doubt hoping that she would have said the opposite.

Fox stared at Theresa, Theresa stared at Ethan, Ethan stared at the ceiling. The three were never meeting, never fully synced.

It was odd. Theresa heard Fox's words, she knew that she wanted to be with Ethan, and yet, there was a part of her, a small and hidden part, that didn't allow it. It was the part of her that had been scarred over for years and years, the part of her that was lost in youth, the part of her that put walls up and ran the opposite way of her heart.

"Okay," Fox said softly. "Theresa and Fox. Always."

Right then, just as Fox had said those words, Theresa felt something inside her chest twisting and breaking. It was much like the pain she'd experienced in Ethan's bed after she left him at the motel. But the pain, rather than being in her abdomen, was in her chest.

She imagined what she looked like inside, as if she was suddenly viewing her body through an internal camera, and she pictured her heart red and moving, throbbing and squeezing blood quickly. The red darkened and soon turned black, the muscle squeezing too hard. And all of a sudden, it exploded and oozed dark blood and dead electricity.

She wanted to scream. Instinctively, she pulled the hand that Fox was holding over her chest and mad note that there was no burning under the skin, no indication of the damage she was sure was being done on the inside. And when she looked back up to Ethan sitting across the table, she realized that the pain she was feeling was his. His hand was also over his chest, probably trying hard to keep the pain from escalating.

"Ethan…?" Theresa asked. Her own voice scared her. She sounded weak and desperate, as if the smallest wind would kill her.

Ethan slowly broke his eyes from the ceiling above him and swallowed a few hard lumps down, fighting the urge to scream. By just saying his name, he knew that she felt what he was feeling. But rather than say anything, Ethan picked up his wine glass and raised it high, his eyes deliberately avoiding Theresa.

"Congratulations," he said with a forced smile on his face. "I wish you both… the very best." Ethan conjured the most genuine smile he could and lifted his glass a little higher, waiting for Fox and Theresa to do the same.

Fox took his glass and clinked it against Ethan's. All three of them tipped their glasses and took a drink. Ethan's eyes went to Theresa's over the rim of his glass and he poured the rest of the wine into his mouth until he was in danger of spitting it back out.

"I hope you mean it, half-bro," Fox said after he put his glass back on the table.

Ethan nodded. "I do. I hope you two make each other very happy." He had to fight his throat as he spoke, afraid the lump would show itself in his voice.

Fox offered him a small smile. "Good." He took another drink and stared into the remaining wine for a second before continuing. "That's good. Because I want to ask you something."

Ethan waited, staring at Fox and then staring at his plate. He was tempted to pick up his fork and start making designs with the left over cream sauce.

"Ethan," Fox began finally. "After everything you've done for me… For fighting for me and winning my case, for proving that you really are my brother… Hell, even for loving Theresa… There's only one way that I can think of to thank you." He paused, hoping that the request wouldn't sound too insane. "Ethan, would you be my best man?"

Ethan felt as if he were struck with an eighteen-wheeler. Never would he ever have anticipated such a request coming from Fox. Despite the fact that Fox had lost most of his Crane ice, there were still some parts that would probably never go away. One being that Crane never forgave.

"I don't know what to say," Ethan said, flabbergasted.

"Fox," Theresa said as she took her husband's hand. "You can't put him in that kind of position. Ethan," she said, turning to him, "you don't have to."

Fox, still staring at Ethan, put his hand up and silently quieted her. "Ethan can make his own decision, Theresa." But after a beat, he turned back to Theresa. "Unless you have some objection to Ethan being part of the wedding."

Theresa coughed, the pain in her chest escalating. "No…," she said. "It's just, I don't think… under the circumstances… it's probably not something Ethan wants to do."

"Under the circumstances," Fox echoed, "I think it would be perfect." He turned back to Ethan and lifted his brows in question. "So, what do you say?"

Ethan's mouth was slightly agape—not too much that Fox could tell just how shocked he really was, but enough.

"I meant it when I said that you're the better man, Ethan," Fox said, his hand going to his chest to emphasize his sincerity. "Because you are. And that's why I want you to be my best man. The question is… will you be?"

Ethan tried to talk, but found no words that fit what he wanted to say. "I… But..." He felt inarticulate, as if he'd never spoken before in his life. "What about the doctor guy? Your best man from your first wedding? I mean… he's—"

"Charlie?" Fox asked. "Yeah, Charlie was my best man the first time. He's in Chechnya or something right now. Probably the Serengeti. Don't really know. Either way, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. He's done it before and all that." Fox shrugged as if it were absolutely no big to deal to him at all.

Ethan looked over to Theresa. She stared back at him, both of them silently communicating. She did and didn't want him at the wedding, and likewise, he did and didn't want to be there.

"So what do you say?" Fox pressed.

Ethan had hoped that after Fox's case was over, he'd just be able to leave Harmony and leave Theresa behind. Her first wedding was hard enough. He remembered sitting in the pew, hoping and praying as they said their vows that Theresa would come to her senses and put an end to everything. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to sit there and watch as she promised herself to another man… again. But maybe it would be the final nail. Maybe he would finally see that they were done for good.

With a heavy breath, Ethan nodded slowly. "I'd be honored, Fox."

As Fox smiled and drank the rest of his wine, Ethan looked over at Theresa from the corner of his eye. After a split second of meeting his gaze, she looked down and then got up to collect their empty plates.

"I'll bring out the dessert," Theresa said as she leaned over to take Fox and Ethan's plates.

"Oh, no," Ethan said, patting his stomach again. "Really, I can't. And I should get going anyway."

Fox stood from the table along with Ethan and all three of them were standing in an uncomfortable proximity without anything to say.

"Well… uh, thanks, Fox," Ethan offered.

Fox smiled and took Ethan's hand with a firm grip. "Thank you, half-bro. Really. If it wasn't for you, I'd be sitting in that cell."

Ethan gestured over to Theresa. "Don't thank me. Thank Theresa. If it wasn't for her, you would have been defended by one of your puppets… and Dylan probably wouldn't have backed down." Fox nodded slowly and looked over at his wife gratefully. "Well… I should get going."

Ethan walked out of the dining room and into the hallway that led to the foyer. Just as he passed the doorway that led the kitchen, he was assaulted by memories of the time he'd taken Theresa against the kitchen counter.

It was like a cloud passed over his eyes and he could only see what had happened that day. He could still feel her against, he could see the way she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, he could taste her in his mouth.

Ethan cleared his throat and shook his head free of the memories forcing themselves on him.

"Well, I can't thank you enough," Fox said as they approached the front closet where Ethan had stowed his coat and briefcase.

"Hey," Ethan said as he slid into his coat, "it's what I do." And purposely doing his best to avoid looking at Theresa, he bent down to grab his briefcase and went to open the front door.

"Theresa, why don't you walk him out?"

Theresa's hair slapped her in the face as she spun around to look at Fox. "What?"

Fox shrugged nonchalantly. "Walk him out." And with another small shrug, Fox pulled his right hand out of his pocket offered it to Ethan. "I'll call you for tux fittings," he said with a smile.

Ethan shuffled from foot to foot, uncomfortably. He was just about to decline Fox's offer that Theresa walk him to his car when Fox leaned forward and opened the front door.

"So I'll see ya later, half-bro." Fox stepped aside to make enough room for Theresa and Ethan to step through.

Theresa offered a fake smile as she stepped past Fox and began walking down the front steps of the mansion. A few seconds later, the front door closed and as Theresa turned, she saw that Ethan was right behind her. She stared at him with angry eyes and just as Ethan was about to open his mouth to say something, she turned and walked down to the drive and made her way over to his car.

"Theresa, stop. You don't have to walk me out. I'm a big boy, I'm sure I can find my car on my own."

Theresa said nothing and she stopped next to the driver's seat. Ethan stepped up next to her, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

"I'm sorry," Theresa said suddenly. She exhaled and the way she breathed seem to shake her body.

"For what?"

Even though Theresa wasn't looking at him, he could tell that tears were falling. She turned her head to the side, forcing herself to look into the distance, probably hoping that the light of the setting sun would push back any tears that were forming.

"I'm sorry," she said again, wiping her eye quickly. "You don't—you don't have to come. You don't have to be Fox's best man."

Ethan nodded, noting internally that he had no intention of actually doing it. He knew that he would have come up with some excuse to get out of it. Still, he wasn't going to tell Theresa that. Perhaps if she thought it was easy for him, it might be easier for her.

"I don't know why he asked you," she continued, her voice quivering.

"It's okay, Theresa. I think he was being sincere. He's trying to be, anyway."

She turned to him, her face scrunched. She was trying her hardest not to break down in front of him. Ethan wasn't sure if it was because Fox might be watching from the window, or because she felt that she needed to be strong.

"I just want… I need to tell you—"

Ethan put his hand up to stop her. "Don't." He laughed lightly to himself, disbelievingly. "I told myself that I wasn't going to do this."

"Do what?"

Ethan shuffled his feet and breathed out a hard breath, his cheeks puffing out like a fish. "Say goodbye to you." He laughed again and looked down to his feet, a pained smile on his face.

"Ethan, I…"

Ethan waved his hand again. "Don't. I mean you don't have to. It's okay, Theresa. I get it. I'm not going to fight you on this anymore." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "This might be the last time that we ever—" He had to stop, his throat almost closing up on him, his mouth refusing to actually say the words. "This might the last time that we ever speak and I don't… I don't want to argue with you. You made your choice and that's it."

Theresa tried to reach out to touch him, but he stepped back. It wasn't in a way that let her know that he didn't want her to touch him—because he did—but it was in a way that let her know that she should touch him, that it would only make it worse. Theresa's hand receded and she looked down, almost ashamed of herself.

"You know, I meant what I said in there. I do wish you two the very best. I hope you're very happy together."

Theresa shook her head almost violently. "Ethan, stop."

"No, Theresa, I mean it. I want you to be happy. Even if it's not with me, that's all I've ever wanted for you."

Even though she was forcing herself to looking to the dying light of the sun, Theresa couldn't fight the tears anymore and they fell onto her cheeks.

"Ethan, please, don't," she begged. She folded into herself, trying to find a place to hide.

Ethan hated seeing her that way, in so much pain. He wanted to reach out and hold her, protect her from any further pain. But there was a voice far away inside his head that warned him against moving forward.

"I'm serious, Theresa," he said, forcing himself to stay where he was rather than going to her. "I want to know that you're out there, laughing, enjoying life. I want to think of you in a few years and think about you playing with your children and your grandchildren, knowing that you're happy… it'll be enough for me."

Theresa shook her head quickly again, still refusing to look at him.

"Promise me, Theresa. Just promise me that you'll try."

Theresa made a sound like a crying child would when short for breath. It sent piercing shots of pain into Ethan's heart and he felt blasphemous not to do anything about it.

"Ethan, please, just don't."

"Theresa, I _need _you to be promise me that you'll be happy. That… you'll move on with Fox and your family. That you'll forget about me…"

Theresa broke her eyes from the almost-gone sun and turned to look at Ethan. "I can't do that," she said adamantly. "I won't."

"Please, Theresa. I need you to do this for me. I need you to promise me… Because I don't know how to leave you otherwise."

Theresa was shaking with every breath. Each inhale and exhale almost seemed painful as the breaths shook in and out of her body. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to keep her chin from quivering, but it didn't work.

"Theresa," he said again, this time more forcefully. "Promise me."

Theresa stared at him, her face growing red and puffy. She had stopped wiping her tears and her cheeks were wet. Ethan stared at her, at the wetness on her face, and couldn't help but think that the fading light playing off her tears only made her more beautiful. Because it was how he would remember her—beautiful.

Finally, after Theresa realized that Ethan wasn't going to back down, she finally nodded despite her shaking and she had to force herself to stop biting her lip in order to speak.

"I promise."

Ethan put his hand to her face, the same as he always did. It was a gesture as old as the world. A man in love held his beloved's face, wanting to touch her, wanting to be close to her. Ethan knew the texture of her skin, the exact way her cheek fit against his palm, and the shape of her bone structure. But this time holding her face, it was different. It meant something different this time.

Ethan wiped a tear away from her eye and simply looked at her. He stared into her brown eyes, into the amber that bordered on honey, and knew that he would never find their equal. He knew that he could travel the world and meet every brown-eyed woman and still not find a pair that looked like Theresa's.

"Ethan—"

Before she could speak, and before he could change his mind about leaving both Harmony and Theresa, he kissed her. Unlike most of their kisses, this kiss wasn't passionate. It was tender and Ethan's mouth was soft against Theresa's.

He wasn't sure if Fox was watching from the window or not, but he didn't care. Even though he'd told himself that he didn't need to say goodbye to Theresa, that they'd be better off without saying goodbye to each other, he realized that he needed one last moment with her. He needed to feel his lips against Theresa's, he needed to feel her hands against his jaw, he needed her to feel how much he loved her.

Finally, their moment had to end. Ethan knew it and Theresa knew it. It was time for them both to start their lives apart. Ethan's lips began slipping from hers, moving slowly, and his forehead slid down to touch against hers.

He held her face close to his, his hands unwilling to part with the skin they knew so well.

"I love you," he said. And never before had he meant it more than at that moment. He'd said the words so many times, but in that moment, he wanted Theresa to know just how much he meant it, how much he felt it, and how much it meant to him to love her.

And with a final kiss against her forehead, Ethan left her. He walked around her, got into the front seat of his car and drove off as fast as he could.

He fumbled with his seatbelt as he drove around the fountain and he looked up into the rearview mirror as he approached the gates. Theresa stood in front of the mansion, the setting sun behind her, the wind blowing her hair. She looked like the tragic last scene of a movie.

"Goodbye, my love."

* * *

For any of you that are still reading this, I love you and I can't tell you how much I thank you. There's one more chapter and the epilogue and this story will finally have a close.

Love,

Sophia

Chapter 13: **Double-Sided **


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